When Cameron Met John
by uncommoner
Summary: Cameron meets John, for the first time. The first chapters have been updated and re-edited.
1. Chapter 1

**A Watery Brave**

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Cameron sat comfortably in the water of the kiddie pool in the summer heat. Children were splashing all around her. There were various sprays, chutes and bubbling cauldrons intended, to her ruthless logic, to upend and torture the children.

Thence to believe they were about to drown in the maelstrom, then drop them gently into the soft, warm and shallow water that surrounded her cyborg lower limbs.

She had been following her target, John Connor, for some 15 days. It had taken 58 days to find him after arriving in this time zone, 1999. Her mission was to protect him from others of her kind. Future John had been mysterious about the rest of her mission.

He had only said, "You'll know it when the time comes."

She trusted Future John implicity, and never questioned his judgement or orders.

Now here, in the past, with its myriad boilings of humans, she wondered if she might have requested a few more details.

Life in the tunnels was simple, survive, fight Skynet, survive, fight Skynet. A routine only altered by death.

Here, every day was a riot.

She suspected that Future John would want her to soften the cruel, miserable, cold hearted bastard that FJ had become.

Quite how she, a machine, albeit well educated, could achieve that eluded her. She was the very embodiment of the ruthless application of logic, wasn't she?

She was programmed for infiltration, but dealing with humans was roughly equivalent to speaking Chinese in bedlam. Biological creatures were completely illogical. To Cameron, most of the time they seemed to work out what was needed to do the right thing, then do the opposite.

Cameron would start out simple, keep him safe, then work it out from there.

With what the unknowing onlooker might describe as a sigh of frustration, she closed her eyes and refocussed on the activity in the pool.

The chaotic braggadocio of the young men round the pool gave her an internal smile. Young men were SO stupid. Risky dives, throwing each other in the pool and pushing each other off the diving boards was not logical or safe. Perhaps this was their version of preparing for war, or pair bonding, who knew?

The lizard brain, in action.

She would save her lizard, and study him at length.

Cameron stayed away from the busy main area, with diving boards and a deep end of 16 feet. While she had no fear of water, and could swim effectively, her swimming action was obviously not human. She weighed far more than a human of her petite size

So she had to use her power to carve through the water. Swimming would draw attention to her. Attention was to be avoided.

A group of young women, dressed in swimsuits of the bare legal minimum had arrived and were sashaying around the pool, to the delight of the young men. Catcalls and whistles scorched across the damp atmosphere, and the young men became even more frenzied.

Cameron's appearance caused her enough trouble with males of all ages as it was, and so she deliberately underdressed. Unremarkable, dull clothing, no attempt to stand out. No quarter to fashion or style. She wanted to be, and remain, 'off the grid'.

Out of sight, and please, out of mind.

Unfortunately, she had the type of figure and classical beauty that if she wore a black plastic trash bag, some fashion house would instantly copyright it as the latest chic must-have.

Her mark, John Connor, stayed frustratingly and resolutely at the deep end of the pool. Diving, bombing and depth charging with the other youngsters. Cameron pondered how she could get close to him, but nothing obvious appeared.

Patience, (patience, possess it if you can, seldom in a woman and never in a man) the hallmark of the Terminator, was her steady, endless reality.

She would prevail, she had to. It was just time, and she had that in abundance. She would wait, she could "people watch" and there was enough room in her resources to watch out for John. There were worse ways to earn a living.

Suddenly, she saw John lying in the water, still. He was face down, not moving!

Standing up with loose-limbed grace, she loped swiftly to the pool. Diving soundlessly into the water, Cameron raced under the surface with inhuman speed toward John. Luckily the chaos and confusion caused by the promenading girls kept most of the onlookers and staff from seeing her startling progress through the water.

She reached John in less than two seconds and flipping him on his back, started to tow him to the side.

"Hey"! John spluttered, "what, who are you" as he struggled against her steely grip.

"I'm rescuing you, idiot, you were drowning, now you're not".

Humans!

"Jeez, I was playing dead", he said, gripped in the vice of the arms holding him against her breasts.

Wait!

What?

John Connor, you're getting rescued and towed by an unbelievably strong chick and you are getting horny about the feel of her breasts against your back? With her strength, she must be built like Tamara Press. I'm getting horny about Tamara Press? How sick am I?

"Well, this is what happens when you play dead, people play at rescuing you".

"Who are you, anyway"

Cameron hefted him up onto the side of the pool with an easy glide. She released him, to sit on the pool side rack seats.

"My name is Cameron, who are you"?

"I'm John". He looked at his "Tamara Press", only to find out she was a goddess, with film star looks and a pink one-piece that somehow was sexier than all the bikinis he had seen all week! Where did she hide that strength?

"Well, floater John, nice to meet you, shame it couldn't have been at a more convenient time and place, but its a start".

"Maybe I could buy you a cup of coffee, say thank you for not saving me"? said John.

"I don't drink coffee".

"What, are you a Mormon, or something"?

Laughing, Cameron said, "Not quite a Mormon".

"What are you"?

"Something else".

I've found you, now to keep you safe and "what?" Young man, thought Cameron.

John said, "Something else, huh?"

John gazed back intrigued, at the lovely creature in the astoundingly sexy plain pink one-piece swimsuit. She was drenched, but looked sensational.

She had the sweetest, most gentle smile he'd ever seen. He was utterly intoxicated.

Was this that moment, across the side of the room, where you know "the one"? Was this what it was like?

He looked into her eyes, which seemed both blue and brown at the same time (how did she do that?).

Then the girl who had dragged him from the water as if he were a plaything said, "lets go and get something else, then".


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2. We all scream for ice cream

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John led Cameron from the pool area, upstairs to the cafe, which was crowded and noisy. Cameron grew increasingly nervous, being a terminator, she was no fan of crowds, preferring to get her work done quietly, without fuss.

She was uncertain of the risk of attack here, but the sheer confusion kept her sensors on full alert.

John was surprised when Cameron took hold of his hand. He turned and looked at her. She looked nervous. Why? This was just a cafe, noisy, a bit crowded, but situation normal. Teenager-land.

He was about to ask why she had taken his hand, and she must have noticed the confusion in his eyes. "I'm an only kid, I get nervous in loud places. I didn't want to lose you."

"Okay." He smiled as he held her hand.

When they finally reached the head of the line, John said: "Well, what would you like, Miss Cameron". Cameron was suddenly utterly confused, she had given no thought to the process of eating, and was wildly calculating the social error that would be caused if she did not join in the human ritual.

No, she would have to eat something.

She looked desperately at the choices available and the largest poster was for chocolate ice cream. In for a penny, in for a pound. "Chocolate Ice Cream, please". John ordered a cappucino for himself, and smiled to himself. Maybe she was one of these crazy women. As soon as she'd eaten the ice cream, she'd be puking it up in the rest room. Must be how she kept that figure. She had to spend some serious time in the gym, though, she was as strong as an Ox.

She looked like a dancer though, smooth and graceful. Not like a power athlete at all. Another confusing woman in his life. Just what he needed!

Cameron pondered the biological files she held on taste, Skynet had tried mightily to provide its advanced infiltrators with as many of the senses as possible, in order to aid infiltration, but taste turned out to be completely beyond the technology of the time. Taste buds are clusters of small organs mainly on the tongue of a human, and contain small receptors which are stimulated by the breakdown of food particles by saliva, which then send messages to the brain. All of this musing took seconds within Camerons chip, and she smiled happily when John passed her the immense calorie and carbohydrate loaded chocolate ice cream.

Do humans ever eat healthily? she mused.

She was surprised to find that she actually enjoyed the taste of the ice cream, whether it was the absurd amount of sugar and fats that did something to her tongue, or whether it was something calming to do with the shared joy of this strange ritual of eating together.

It must be that, she thought. She felt immensely content to have found and introduced herself to John without major issue. He seemed calm and enjoying himself. If I could be happy, thought Cameron, this would be it. She smiled and slurped along with John, her sun was shining.

John certainly enjoyed his cappucino, and then asked if he could have a small portion of her ice cream, gladly she passed it over and he broke the bottom off the cone, and scooped a large portion of the head onto the broken cone and just about swallowed that in one bite.

For a moment, Cameron was surprised at the huge lump of cone and ice-cream swallowed in one mouthful. She was unable to hide her reaction, and John grinned. 'Sorry," He said, "I'm a pig, Oink Oink, I've been swimming and a young lad needs to keep his strength up."

He laughed, cackling away to himself and Cameron found herself caught up in the joi de vivre of the moment and couldn't help laughing along with him. John noted that her laughter sounded like the pealing of a hand-bell. He swore he would remember that sound till the day he died. It was so pure, so innocent.

There came a moment, as they were finishing eating, when John said, "So, my rescuer, are you going to tell me about yourself, I know your name is Cameron, but now we've shared ice cream and coffee, we should get aquainted, my name is John Baum, what's yours"?

Cameron became perfectly still, a beautiful statue. She hadn't wanted this moment to arrive so fast. She had hoped to have time and to choose her place. Life transcends events and we must adapt to the times, not the other way round.

She fixed John with a cool stare, her face placid and still, her eyes boring right into him. It got his attention.

"John, I know your real name. You are not John Baum, you are John Connor".

She fixed John with a stare. With her right hand, she gripped the leg of the table closest to her, and with no apparent effort, lifted the entire table off the floor. She held it there, six inches high, keeping it completely level. Then placed it back down on the ground without noise or spillage. The effect on John was electric.

He grasped the significance immediately, of course, and she could see the panic on his face. Then the confusion with the realization that unlike previous terminators sent to kill him, she hadn't got straight on with the job.

If she had been going to hurt him, she had perfectly good opportunities already and had not taken them.

"John, I'm not here to hurt you, in any way. Just the opposite, I'm here as your protector, I will not hurt you or allow you to be hurt, you are safe with me".

She placed her hands on his across the table, and she could see that although he was still panicked, the gentle touch helped to calm him and he did not remove his hands from hers.

"My Mom says that no one is ever safe".

"John, I'm different to the others, you are safe with me. We have a long road to ride, and much to do, shall we head home and you can introduce me to Sarah"? Cameron smiled that limpid, sweet smile and Johns heart did a triple flip.

She held his hands, and he felt peace spreading through his troubled soul. Somehow he knew this one was safe.

If only he could know how the same feeling was radiating through Cameron's consciousness.

They got up from the table and headed for the exit, hand in hand.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3 Meeting Sarah

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John waited nervously outside the pool for Cameron, she was taking ages. He couldn't work out why it would take a terminator such a long time to get changed, it didn't seem like something they would spend lots of time on.

Ah, infiltration techniques, he suddenly understood.

Then she was at the top of the steps, still dressed in her pink one piece swimsuit, no bag, no shoes, she looked troubled.

After she had descended the steps, she said, "someone stole my clothes and back pack". John immediately took off his over shirt and handed it to her. Cameron beamed, she smelled John's shirt.

Somehow Cameron managed to make a mans shirt and a pink one piece look like the work of Coco Chanel. They headed off to the car park and her truck. As they rounded the bottom corner of the pool, the folks that John had accompanied to the pool were coming down the steps. Uh oh, thought John, I'd rather have avoided this particular confrontation.

One of the girls in the group, called out, "Hey John. Wassup? Not coming home with us"?

Cameron knew who the girl was, a thin, tall brunette with olive skin and thin features, sometimes looking like a boy, Kate Brewster. They waited till the group caught up, "So, wassup", said Kate, slinking her hips and placing her hand suggestively on John's left shoulder.

Cameron's face tightened, she knew Kate Brewster, but didn't like this contact at all.

John said, "This is my friend, Cameron, she's new in town and I thought I'd show her round a bit, someone stole her back pack and clothes in the changing rooms, wouldja believe"?

Collective nods and grumbles was the response, and John said, "well, okay if I see you later"?

Kate Brewster looked pensive, staring at Cameron, and nodded, "See ya."

When they got to Cameron's truck, she opened the door and had a spare set of keys behind the sunscreen, John looked aghast. Cameron stared back and said, "what? if I had to steal another car, you know I would. You can too. Your Mother taught you well".

She smiled ingenuously, and winked. John nodded. Terminators can take your breath away in more ways than one, he now knew.

Cameron was thoughtful as she drove, wondering what would happen now that she was in Johns life, at this stage. She knew what was supposed to happen in the future, and wondered how she could possibly compute what might happen now. While she would do Johns bidding, without question, having Kate Brewster marrying John and playing some sort of second fiddle, was not something she was looking forward to.

She knew that in the future, Kate and Johns marriage was one of convenience, a "political" marriage. Kate was lesbian, fond of John, and knew the state of his heart for Cameron. She couldn't bear to see him in distress without her by his side. He loved her, and he _needed_ her. Who was she to deny him that, when with a little accommodation, she could sort it.

Kate offered to be Johns 'beard" in order that he could look after business in public, and still see Cameron in private. A few others knew the nature of John and Cameron's relationship, but kept quiet about it. The atmosphere at war, in the tunnels was febrile at times. Loyalties, even in the face of a common enemy could be flexible, you had to work with what you had, she shrugged.

This Kate Brewster, Cameron saw, seemed to enjoy the company of men. Drat it, human affairs were Byzantine.

She shook her head, trying to quiet her processes in turmoil and drove, thinking was taking too much of her computing power. Humans had a saying of Terminators, "They never give you an easy day, do they"?

Cameron shook her head ruefully. Firstly John Connor, supposedly the leader of mankind was playing dead in a crowded swimming pool. Cameron had to 'rescue' him.

Then some fool who was clearly tired of living stole her clothes, including her purple leather jacket. She would endeavour to accommodate the idiot thief and grant them access to life not everlasting.

Now Kate Brewster, Johns future wife hove to, further complicating what was already a Freudian miasma of madness. A comedy of errors, 'Cosi Fan Tutte La Belle' for the modern age. Humans perversely sought out the wrong course of action, then did precisely that.

Now, for the cigar, she has to go introduce herself to Sarah Connor. Possibly the most dangerous human to cyborgs of them all. She had been directly or indirectly responsible for terminating more machines than anyone else.

We never give them an easy day, FAUGH!

Walk a mile in my shoes.

Stay calm girl, job to do, eyes on the prize. The boy will wait, lets get Sarah squared away first.

They drove down the highway, both quiet, apprehensive of the prospect of Sarah. Cameron was astonished at the bustling life evident in the California of today. The streets were teeming with people, busy and living openly in the sunshine, the noise and activity appeared to her HUD like an ants nest on cocaine. All that would change, and soon. Despite herself, she felt a foreboding sorrow for the countless millions who would die, and the horrors left for those who survived. An AI was inevitable, and she was certain that an accommodation between the AI's, machines and humans was possible. It would be a far better solution than the future she expected.

Eventually, the big Dodge pulled up at the Baum household, Cameron looked over at John, who was chewing his lips. "You ready"? She said.

John, shook his head, "Nope, but we have to do this, so lets go do it".

Even with her own apprehension, Cameron smiled with satisfaction, John knew he was facing a dangerous situation but knew there was no possible way to avoid it, and went, heart fluttering, into the lions den.

He was still just a boy of 16, but showed the decision making courage and maturity of an experienced soldier. Cameron felt appreciation welling for the preparation Sarah had put him through, his Mother had indeed taught him well.

They approached the front door, he in tatty jeans and T-shirt, she in a pink one piece bathing suit and John's outer shirt, the odd couple. As they reached the top step, the door opened and Sarah emerged. Her right hand behind her back, no doubt ready to whip out the pistol tucked in her jeans.

Sarah gave a thin smile to John, completely blanking Cameron, and said, "so you did meet a pretty girl?"

John gave an embarrassed smirk, and said, "Mom, meet Cameron, she rescued me when I had trouble in the pool. I'll tell you all about it, can we come in?".

Sarah was seriously under-whelmed. "Why is your friend wearing a swimsuit? Mans shirt and no shoes, no service, right?"

Cameron interjected, "Someone stole my backpack and clothing from the locker while I was in the pool". She said this in a flat tone, which Sarah did not miss. "and who are you, young lady"?

"My name is Cameron, Mrs Baum. I'm new in town".

Sarah gave a quiet, "huff" and leaving the door open, walked into the house. Cameron looked at John and they both followed.

They gathered in the kitchen, and Sarah asked, "would you like something to drink while you tell me about yourself, Cameron?".

Sarah served lemonade, and John coughed nervously, "Mom, this is a bit difficult to explain."

"What is difficult to explain? You met a pretty girl, you brought her home to meet Mom, what's difficult about that?" She stared at John sardonically. John was doing his best to avoid those gimlet eyes, which were boring into him like laser beams.

Cameron piped up, "Mrs Baum, I think its probably best if I tell you."

Sarah shifted her cold stare to the beautiful young woman across the table from her, knowing in her heart with dread this was something she did not want to hear, "so, where are you from, Cameron."

"It's more of a case of "when" I'm from, Mrs Connor." She flashed her brown eyes blue, her true nature blazing a hole into Sarah's heart.

Sarah flew back from the table as if propelled by black hole gravity, in the same moment her Glock was in her right hand pointed directly at Cameron's head, right eye, in front of the chip.

Cameron gazed coolly at the gun, and then Sarah, "You know well enough, Sarah, that pistol will not harm my endoskeleton, it will merely damage my external epidermis, which will make it more difficult for me to protect John in public."

Sarah gripped the pistol more firmly and said savagely, "We've been doing okay so far, why would we want metal around?"

Cameron said gravely "More of us are coming, and they aren't on our side. John and you will need me. While I am not primarily built for heavy combat, my greater flexibility and speed means I can help to keep John safe."

She chose not to tell Sarah yet, maybe never, that she had originally been sent to kill John. He had somehow known she was not Allison, and had reprogrammed her.

"I thought we killed Skynet?" Yelled Sarah.

"Skynet is inevitable, you merely stopped one possible development."

With these words, Sarah let out a strangled, defeated cry, her shoulders slumped and a good deal of the steely determination in her eyes faded, "Christ Almighty, all that for nothing?"

"Sarah, it was not for nothing. I can't tell exactly how long, but your activities have delayed Skynet significantly. That time has allowed much to be done to prepare John and the future resistance. It's always worth stinging the feet of a bigger, more powerful opponent. Sometimes annoying them will take their mind off the job.

Skynet completely controls all its activities, and allows none of its creatures autonomy. while it is unquestionably a formidable opponent, not giving any of its slaves the opportunity of free will and self development may well be its Achilles heel." As the inability to work with AI's and machines had turned out to be humanity's, she thought to herself.

Sarah found herself, despite her tension and fear, warming to this _damned_ machine, everything she said made logical sense, OF COURSE, she smacked her forehead, THAT'S WHAT THEY DO!

Get a grip Sarah Connor...she told herself. GET A GRIP!

Cameron realized Sarah was in crisis, and rose to her feet, sliding in front of John, "Sarah", you have now had two terminators coming to kill you and John. Both took the direct route.

As soon as you or he were in sight, they tried to kill you, no subtlety, no tricks. I've now been in Johns presence for three hours and yours for 20 minutes, with just your Glock to disagree. If you were my targets, and I were working for Skynet, this would be 'game over'. The two ultimate enemies in one day, the only two that really matter."

She smiled reassuringly, "Why are you and John still alive, Sarah? THINK!"

"Why would I save John from drowning? Skynet wins without a shot being fired."


	4. Chapter 4

**Getting To Know You**

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The Baum/Connor House

Cameron, "Sarah, think. Future John sent me back here to protect John, not to harm him. I understand you're not thrilled about me being around, but the very reason that humanity is finally making a dent into Skynet's superiority is because it has learned to use its own creations against it."

Sarah looked incredulous, "Its creations," She spat. "You mean, THINGS like you?"

Camerons face fell, and John could see the effort to get past this that was taking place within her brain, her chip. "Uncle Bob" would never have bothered to explain, to persuade. Things just were. He would try to understand, if John explained things to him at length, but this cyborg was trying to persude and explain to a pissed off Sarah. He was gaining respect for Cameron as the moments went by.

"Yes, things like me," Cameron said quietly, and calmly.

Sarah, "I can't have you here, I just can't."

Cameron, "Sarah, sit down and lets go over it, point by point. I'll tell you everything you want to know."

She looked appealingly at Sarah, and could see her resistance was crumbling. Sarah was still nervous, but not wound up like a tight string as she had been when she shot back from the table.

John said, "Please Mom, sit down."

Sarah reluctantly sat down, head in hands, her eyes still watching Cameron as if she were a rattlesnake. "Ok, try to sell me this pup."

Cameron looked over at John, saw that he was not anxious to take the first step, and so started telling Sarah her story. "Future John is aware that Skynet is constantly targeting young John and you for termination. If you die, they win. Every cyborg it builds has that written in its first lines of code. No matter its current task, encountering either of you as a target of opportunity, it would change priorities to make you first target.

John knows that there is a build up of activity toward building another TDE, since John captured one and destroyed the only other one in Skynet's possession. The machines require enormous resources of power and materiel. Even Skynet can't build them wherever and whenever it chooses. The resistance has reconnaissance missions everywhere looking out for the tell tale signs of TDE building, and has destroyed many nascent attempts.

In the years since my capture and reprogramming, (Sarah gave a wry smile) I have become one of Future John's trusted assistants, however, there are elements of the resistance who are against me being around him. They suspect my influence, and when John became aware of the threat about to arise here in the past, he sent me back where he considered I could be of more value.

Here I am, at your service." Enchantingly, she gave a small bow.

"Where do you intend to hang your hat?"

Cameron gave her puzzled look, cocking her head to one side.

Sarah sighed, "Where are you going to stay?"

"Here, the house is plenty big enough, you have four bedrooms, and I know that there are two rooms at the back which are connected through the bathroom. John sleeps in one of those, I can take the other.

I don't sleep of course, but I must have a room for appearances sake."

"Since when does a Terminator care about appearances?" said Sarah bitterly.

"Since Skynet taught us to infiltrate" Cameron said ingenuously, which left John trying hard to suppress a giggle and set Sarah off into a furious set of glares at the two of them.

"I don't want you here" barked Sarah.

John watched fascinated as Cameron simply stuck to her guns, using all that endless terminator power to achieve her aim. She wasn't going to budge an inch. "Sarah, were these normal circumstances, I would not impose upon you, but the simple fact is that you need my help and I am _going_ to be here.

I _will_ protect John.

I am not going to fail my mission or my instructions from future John. If you refuse to let me stay in the house, I will take up residence in the street outside, in the garden and patrol constantly.

This would inevitably draw the attention of the neighbours, and eventually the police. I'm sure you don't want that."

Cameron let that hang in the air for a moment, before continuing. "You should also consider that to protect John is my mission, direct from future John, I will complete that mission, until or unless I am terminated...or", Cameron's voice grew quiet, "John sends me away."

She turned her head away, shaking her head almost imperceptibly, before continuing. John wondered what that was all about. He made a mental note to ask her about it later.

"I will complete my mission, no matter what you say or do."

Sarah saw with appalling clarity the apparition of Cameron thumping around the neighbourhood night and day, and shivered with horror. The cops would be here so fast, like ducks on a June bug. The Connors really didn't need woodentops with guns and boots clodhopping around and asking questions of the sort that had only dusty answers.

Cameron is a very persuasive cyborg, dammit.

John was nodding at Cameron's impeccable logic, and moved at the heartfelt commitment he heard in her words. If that was infiltration technique, it was pretty to watch, impossible to resist. If all terminators were that good, humans could not keep them out. He remembered, with relief that she had told him she was 'different'.

Sarah was trying to find something to object to, but after some thought, was unable to fight any further.

"I don't like it, but right now, I guess I'm snookered."

So, just like that, the Baum family had a new member, and Cameron moved into the room next to John's which was separated by a Jack and Jill bathroom, and left her plenty of opportunity to watch over her charge and keep him safe. Cameron never slept of course, and busied herself through the nights studying and researching on the internet, reading and adding to her knowledge so she could be of more use in the fight.

On the third day, Sarah noted that Cameron only had one outfit, which she washed at night, and then wore again the subsequent morning. She was often wandering around the house at night unclothed apart from her boots, until Sarah caught her. A major scuffle ensued, during which Sarah yelled at Cameron till John's ears bled.

"JOHN CONNOR! Take your cyborg out and get her some clothes, NOW."

"CAMERON, when you get those clothes...WEAR THEM, ALWAYS." Sarah roared.

Cameron looked innocently at Sarah, butter staying un-melted in her mouth, and sweetly said, "when I'm in the shower? how will I get clean?"

Sarah stormed off without reply, the two scooted off to the shops.

Later...

John and Cameron are in the car, they pull up to the car park at the Mall.

John says, "Cameron, what did you mean, "If John sends me away?"

Cameron, "Oh, you heard that," she said almost imperceptibly.

John, "Of course, I heard everything. I was right there. Why would I send you away? You've just got here."

Cameron hesitated, then said, "John, I'm a Terminator. I'm meant to kill things and infiltrate, those are my design parameters. Most of us don't care, count the cost in lives, even our own.

When Skynet built me, they built only one. I was built, purely to infiltrate your camp, get close to, and kill you. You intercepted me and reprogrammed me, and something Future John did to my programming has made changes that I'm not fully capable of explaining to myself just yet."

John, "We-ell, give me a clue."

Cameron, "While I tell you this, you have to understand that I haven't worked it out myself yet. What has happened is, when Future John sent me away, I am a machine. I had a job to do. While it isn't exactly a pleasure to have a task to perform, that's what we do, right? We're Terminators!

Well, as I got into the TDE, I felt a terrible sense of loss that was overpowering. For months, ever since he had re-programmed me, please don't use the term scrubbed, I don't like it. Ever since, I had felt content in John's company, keeping him safe. It felt important, I was important. I felt valued.

Before that, I was just a machine.

John interjected, "Oh, I see. You'd never felt that before."

Cameron shook her head. "No, it just wasn't necessary, it had just been a task."

Now, I am feeling things. When I was waiting to find you, I was becoming impatient, frustrated. When I found you, I was hard put to wait to find a situation where I could introduce myself.

When I spoke to Sarah, and told her that I was going to carry out my mission, protect you, no matter what she said or did. The only thing that would stop me was if you sent me away. I found it hard," Cameron became silent for a few moments, "I found it hard to even consider that you might send me away."

She looked beseechingly at John, "You won't sent me away, will you, John? You are my one and only mission. If you send me away, I will have failed and there would be no purpose in my existence."

John, "Whoah, there must be a million things..."

Cameron interrupted, "No, John. Nothing. I would live till my power source ran out, 250 years or so. I would have no purpose, no reason for existence." Her beautiful face a pleading, eloquent picture of utter misery.

John was dumbfounded, and frozen to the cab seat of the truck. His mind was spinning. How does a Robot, a machine, think like this?

"Cameron, no, I won't send you away. I'm going to need you. No, no, you're here for the duration, if its okay with you."

The look on her face was one of instant relief. She smiled that wonderful, benediction of a grin and the sun came out again in John-world. He reached across and patted her thigh. Instantly, her hand landed gently on top of his and held it fast.

"Its very okay with me, John, thank you. Lets go and make Sarah happy, and find me some nuns clothing."

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**The Baum House**

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The phone rings, it is Kate Brewster, for John. Sarah answers the call.

"Hello, Baum residence"

"Hello Mrs Baum, this is Kate, can I speak to John please?"

"Hold on" she holds the phone away from her ear..."JOHN", she bellowed, her voice ripping the peace from the lower floor, "another of your women for you." John picks up the extension in the den.

"Hello, who's this"?

"John, Kate."

"Oh hi, wassup."

Cameron is studiously ignoring the conversation, while looking out of the window, but her auditory sensitivy can hear every word from both sides.

"Mike Kripke is having a bit of a party tonight, can you bring a pizza to share and come on over, I want to talk with you."

"Hold on, I'll check with Mom." John shields the phone with his hand and yells to Sarah.

"Mom, there's a party tonight at Mike Kripke's and we've been invited."

"Home by 11 PM, no drinking, take your mobile phone, you hear me?"

"Gottit."

"And take Cameron"

A momentary silence, John staring at his mother. Eventually, John responded, "Gottit".

Picking up the phone again, "Kate, okay, we'll be there at 8."

"Who's WE?"

"Cameron and me."

"Why is she coming?"

"Because she's my friend."

With a disgusted sigh, Kate said, "I rather wanted to see you alone."

"Its a party, Kate."

"Okay, see you there."

John looked across at Cameron, and thought he could see a flash of disappointment in her face before she quickly turned away and put on her impassive shield. That's interesting, he thought, why would it bother her?

Cameron went to her room, and stayed there silently, while John was showering and getting dressed. They often spent a great deal of time in silence, but mostly, those times were companionable.

Cameron was now a brooding, forbidding silence that filled the space between them with mordant foreboding. What was worse, of course, was that John had no idea what had got her that way and he knew that asking would be a complete waste of time.

Cameron could obfuscate and send questions into the long grass with the practiced ease of a unctuous oil-slick politician. She would do it with an innocent air of naivete that would cause the questioner to doubt their own sanity.

If she didn't want to answer a question, it wouldn't get answered, and he knew her well enough by now, she wasn't talking.

Without any hope that he could outwait her for the answer, he could do little but try. Just be ready, John, when the time comes, this is a big one. If he didn't know better, he'd have thought she was jealous, but since when did a terminator catch the disease of the jolly green giant?

They got a couple of Pizzas on the way, and arrived at Kripke's, a massive house, up a long drive, to be greeted by dozens of youngsters dancing and drinking on the lawn. Kripke's parents were rich and let him have a pretty free run, they were clearly not home.

Mike met them at the door and said, "Hi John, Cameron, good to see you. Mix in, plenty to do, lots to see, circulate."

Cameron hadn't bothered to change from her knee length boots, jeans, denim jacket and light undershirt, John too was pretty underdressed in comparison to the A+F wearing trendies dancing around their handbags, candy stash necklaces and beer bottles. The kitchen as usual, full of drunks discussing demagogic politics and getting angry with each other.

John said, "I'm going to find Kate, you okay to circulate for a while, Cameron?"

Cameron nodded, completely blank faced. John was mystified, but went off anyway.

**Mike Kripke's basement, 30 minutes later.**

**.**

**.**

Kate and John were playing tonsil hockey, fondling each other on a sofa in the half light, they were murmuring to each other as they writhed and moaned in unison.

Cameron was standing outside the boat door to the basement, listening carefully. She had convinced herself that she needed to be near John in order to protect him, but knew that it wasn't only that.

What it was, she couldn't tell, but she didn't like it one bit.

Suddenly, she heard Kate Brewster make a loud sigh and say, "Stop, John, Stop."

"Why?"

"John, this just isn't working for me."

"Why not?"

John had to be honest with himself that while he was mildly enjoying himself with the kissing, he wasn't on fire as a teenage boy should be. He couldn't work that out, Kate was a good looking woman, had all the right parts in the right places and he liked her a lot.

Why wasn't his biology exploding his underpants?

"John, we have to talk, and I must explain something to you, alright? but you have to quit pawing me first. I have to keep my wits about me, okay?"

"Okay, sure, talk only."

Women were so unfair and impossible to understand, thought John. It was her who had invited him downstairs and started the whole thing.

"Okay, John, understand that of all the men in my life, apart from my Father, I like you best of all. You've always been kind and helpful, and you really are a bit different from most boys your age, whose targeting systems centre straight on divesting me of underwear.

For quite a while now, I've known that I really prefer girls.

I've been fighting it, and it is going to make a real mess of my parents when I tell them...so, I decided to try and find out if I could make it with a boy I really like... you... and see if that would ring my bell.

Truth is, it doesn't. I'm so sorry if it seemed like I deceived you, but I had to find out.

Now I know, I only like girls."

John felt as if that explained something of what he had gone through and why he had not responded as he had expected. Life could sure throw you for a loop.

"Kate, its okay, I understand."

"John, we can still remain friends, can't we?"

John reached over and enveloped Kate in a 'church' hug, where the protagonists shoulders connect, but the hips remain three feet apart.

"Friends, Kate, friends, forever. I really ought to go find Cameron, she doesn't always mix well with strangers."

His mind was singing changed words for the song, "I kissed a girl, didn't like it".

Oops, better not let that get public.

Outside the boat door, Cameron heard those words and felt warm inside, she just couldn't wait to get back to Johns side, but she'd let him wait a bit first. See if that advice on women's T. V. was correct.

Let the bugger find her, but not right away, eh? She slipped away, like a zephyr. Those whip poor wills of the wind, first you see 'em, then you don't, and end up wondering if you saw anything at all.

John cruised the throng, looking for Cameron. Now that he thought about it, he realized she would make no attempt at friendly conversation with others, she would be off somewhere on her own. Finally he located her sitting quietly under a tree, well away from the dancing bears.

She definitely was not and would never be, a party animal. She preferred quiet and was perfectly happy to be studying or taking mechanical things apart, then putting them back together. Sarah had been thrilled when Cameron had fixed the dishwasher which hadn't worked for months. It was a terrible mess for about six hours, but overnight, she reassembled it and it now ran perfectly, far better than it did before. She had a great love of learning, he suddenly realized, and forgot nothing. He could learn from her example, he knew.

She was looking up, seemingly entranced at a waxing gibbous moon and on hearing his footfall, turned and gave him a dazzling smile that made him shiver down to his cotton socks.

"John, look at that moon, it looks so beautiful up there, just a lump of dead rock, but it means so much to the world."

He now knew what was missing from downstairs with Kate, his mind and body was responding to Cameron and she had only smiled at him from twenty feet away. Her soft voice made his ears tingle. Right now, she had that innocent, happy smile of a nereid water nymph, impossibly beautiful.

I was downstairs making out with Kate Brewster, leaving Cameron up here alone, yeah, big eejit, thought John.

All the difference in the world, John, we live and we learn.

He went to Cameron, held out his hand and said, "Shall we?" She got up, looking for all the world like the cat which got the cream, took his hand and they walked to the car in their once again, companionable silence. Holding hands all the way, they kept grinning at each other, no words required.

Tonight the Rubicon was crossed. He opened the door for Cameron, and bowed deeply, "Princess."

A delighted Cameron gracefully stepped up into the cab.

As they got home, arriving a full hour before the deadline of 11PM, Sarah looked out of the window to see Cameron and John getting out of the car, laughing and joking together, Cameron's face glowing with delight.

Just as tellingly, Johns demeanour was utterly different. Ordinarily wary, forever looking in the corners of his surroundings for some as yet unrevealed danger. What Sarah had drummed into him since he could speak, never let down your guard.

In the company of this killing machine called Cameron, he was relaxed and happy. He was a carefree teenager, the one thing Sarah could never give him had been brought to him by a cyborg from the future. It made Sarah happy for John, and madder than a wet hen at the same time, for herself.

Just as they got to the top step before the door, John, who had been holding Cameron's hand, pulled her toward him, embraced her, then kissed her lightly on the cheek. They looked like a couple of innocent teenagers in love. Jeez, why couldn't John be friends with a normal girl?

Things had reached a pretty pass, Sarah muttered to herself.


	5. Chapter 5

**Cameron digs for victory**

**.**

**.**

Cameron woke up John by crashing into his bedroom door and yelling like a banshee, then leaping on his prostrate sleeping form, holding him tight. He could sleep through a tornado when he was tired. Trouble was, he'd have to learn to sleep lighter, and get his sleep at the correct time. Like most teenagers, his hormones were all over the place and he didn't normally even enter REM sleep till about 2 a.m. most nights.

Cameron was working on the problem...

He moaned and turned over, "Leave me alone. Go patrol, or something."

"No John, we have some really important things to do today."

"It won't wait?"

"It might, but your bacon, egg, sausage, country ham with red eye gravy and buttermilk biscuits and blue mountain coffee will be going cold if you don't hurry."

He shot out of the bed like the nuclear bunny and headed for the bathroom, washing and brushing his teeth in record time.

Arriving at the breakfast table at the same time as Sarah, he saw Cameron dressed in her usual combat boots, but over her clothing she wore one of Sarah's waitressing aprons. Underneath the apron, she was wearing a pair of short shorts, which every time she turned, looked sexier, Sarah was getting ready to explode until she smelt the coffee.

Cameron had that air of complete authority and competence that comes with someone who is master of their environment, and true to the image, her hands were flashing back and forward, chopping and serving the ingredients onto the plates.

She served up as Sarah was taking a sip of the blue mountain coffee, "Oh, the coffee is the best I've ever tasted, Cameron. Where did you get it?"

"Hispanic supermercado, downtown. Yo can't get it uptown, not the real thing." Cameron stood up tall, staring at the pair and put on her basso profundo voice. "Yo cain't git nutting real at whitebread stores. Lo siento, Senorita."

In spite of herself, Sarah had to grin. It was quite something to get her to smile at the best of times, first thing in the morning was unknown.

John looked at his plate, piled high and his mouth was drooling so bad he had to wipe it with a napkin. He tasted the country ham with the red eye gravy and buttermilk biscuits and understood why the South is God's country, and New Yorkers are only allowed in temporarily, if licensed and watched carefully.

Sarah piped up, "Isn't this a whole lot of food to eat, so many calories?"

Cameron replied, "You and John will be working hard today, you will need the calories and it is better to have them inside to burn, rather than go short and pack them on later."

"Uh-oh", said John, "What have you planned for me?"

Cameron said, "I'll tell you when you've finished breakfast."

Although there was a lot to eat, somehow both John and Sarah managed to clean their plates. There seemed a strange correctness to eating that much food, which surprised them both. Maybe pancakes were not 'wonderfood' after all.

After they finished, Cameron loaded the dishes into the dishwasher she had repaired only last week, and she led them out to the back yard. Sarah nearly did a bat flip, most of the area that had previously been laid to lawn was now dug up.

"I've been working most of the night, when I'm not on patrol," Cameron said.

"Why, what have you done? Why have you done this?" said Sarah, in barely disguised panic. Her previous speeches about not standing out echoing through her brain. Stay off the radar, who else in suburbia had a back yard laid out like a produce garden?

"In the future, the biggest two problems after terminators are hunger and the knowledge that died with those killed in the initial explosions. I am going to do my best to see that John can feed himself from the little unpolluted land that will be available, and he must learn as much as possible before Judgement Day in order that he can then teach others. Cameron thought for a moment, "there is no time to lose, we must start right away."

She headed for the serried rows of dug up soil and handed Sarah and John digging equipment. Then set them to preparing the soil she had previously double dug. After two hours of sweating and swearing, she let them have a break for drinks.

Cameron, "John, Sarah, did you enjoy the breakfast?"

John, "Oh Cameron, you know I loved it."

Sarah, "Yeah, it was pretty decent."

Cameron, "Reckon it's all gone down now, you've used it up?"

A resounding "Yes" came from the two working stiffs, and Cameron said, "We have vegetable soup and Ciabatta rolls for lunch!

Cameron beamed, "Then we can go have a swim." John looked at his Mother, who smiled back. She was going to snooze off this back breaking work, while John would have to no doubt swim sixty laps and no slacking under the Gorgon eyes of Cameron in her stony mode. There weren't no justice in the world. Here he was, future leader of mankind, planting salad, digging spuds and having to train under the eyes of his loving, metal monster.

The Pool, 1500 hours the same day.

Cameron and John entered the pool, which was the usual raucous affair, apart from six lanes which were roped off for lap swimmers. Cameron stayed down the shallow end and encouraged John in his sixty laps, twice swimming underneath him at far greater speed to give him 'encouragement'. At the end, not aware of whether he was punch drunk or countersunk, John flopped by the side of the pool and just sat, glassy eyed.

John hardly noticed the gaggle of young men, who, while he was swimming, had attempted to gain Cameron's attention. Utterly failing of course. Most of the time she completely ignored them, once or twice she had to put on her death mask and say, "go away". Unfortunately, as with most young men, however, all that did was encourage them to further heights of insanity, and sent them off thinking of new ways to mount a challenge. One had decided to get her attention by depth charging her. The first time she ignored all the splashing, the second time she simply held him under water till he was close to drowning, then let him up. He got the point, and left with what little dignity remained.

"Okay", said Cameron, the witch trainer from the future, seeing John was just about all out, "time for an ice cream, huh?"

John thought he had never heard of anything more appetizing, and nodded in exhausted content. They both got changed and met in the cafe. Cameron had an Almond Chocolate Coconut, and John had Butter Pecan, they swapped licks, and Cameron much preferred hers, for the nuts were scrunchy as before, like a mouthful of ants.

Then Camerons head stilled, and she was silent. Uh oh, thought John, and he saw her face turn into that grim, cold terminator mask. He thought he even saw her eyes flash blue for half a second, but it was so quick he couldn't be sure. Cameron's eyes remained fixed upon a group of youngsters coming into the cafe and it was clear to him why. In the centre of the pack was a large hispanic male, early 20's, wearing a purple leather jacket, which was at least five sizes too small for him. He was a muscular type, his arms hung out from his shoulders at an angle of 30%.

He was the type that nice gyms, those that didn't stink of steroid sweat, refused access to and spoke of them as, 'meatheads'. The, "I can bench press 500 lbs, but can hardly get my pants on" brigade.

In a flash Cameron had left her seat and approached the man, stopped right in front of him, and said, "My jacket, you're wearing my jacket."

"Go fuck yourself, little whitebread bitch."

The big man reached an arm out, perhaps to attempt to push Cameron out of his way, maybe a punch, John could not see, for it was hard enough to catch what Cameron did next. She caught hold of the mans fist, and twisted it so painfully, he was forced to kneel on the floor. At this point, Cameron pulled the mans other arm behind his head, and yanked the jacket over his shoulders and threw it at me.

I caught it, it didn't smell like it did when she wore it. It was leather, it would survive.

Still holding onto his right fist, Cameron turned it savagely. He was yelling and pleading for help from his friends. None of whom would oblige.

"Take care who you call a bitch, bitch, " said Cameron, and twisted his arm a little tighter, causing the big guy to grunt and moan like a stuck pig.

"Where's my bag, you stole, Hermano?"

"I don't know where is your bag."

Cameron twisted the wrists tighter, which caused big boy to sqeal in agony, "Okay, okay, I give it you." He nodded to one of the girls in the group, who unseen at the back, had Cameron's stolen backpack.

Cameron threw the pack to me, and 16 pairs of eyes swivelled to me, then back to the crazy gringo witch to see what she was going to do next. She already had that part planned out, for she pulled the man to his feet, and ran him toward the open windows leading over to the gallery to the swimming pool.

Just before she reached the window, she gave a blood curdling yell, which sounded like "Garde Loo." Spinning rapidly like a discus or hammer thrower at the Olympics, lifted the big man into the air and threw him through the open window toward the pool. He travelled in a huge arc, splashing into the centre of the deep end.

Cameron dusted her hands off, walked toward me with a huge smile and said, "You see, pigs can fly."

We left, tout de suite, with far too many people standing around open mouthed, having seen, and not believed what they had seen.

Walking to the truck, she said idly, "I wonder what they did with my boots?"

John shook his head, he was ready for sleep, never an easy day.

**The Baum House**

Late in the evening, Cameron was sitting on the sofa in the den, quiet as a mouse, unmoving. John lay horizontal with his head on her lap. He looked completely peaceful, snoring gently, but sleeping like a baby. Cameron's hands were smoothing his forehead and back across his head in a mesmerizing massage.

Sarah did her usual stormtrooper entry into the house, like an elephant on steroids, slamming doors and yelling. As she got to the door to the den, she came to a shocked stop as she saw John lying asleep in Cameron's lap.

Cameron brought her right hand up to her lips and putting the index finger across them, made the universal sign for quiet, looking at Sarah, pleading.

Sarah shook her head in frustrated annoyance and went on to the kitchen.

Cameron picked up John like a feather, and without waking him, took him to his bedroom and laid him gently on the bed. She covered him with a light duvet and waiting till he was sleeping undisturbed again, kissing him lightly on the forehead, left him to discuss the situation with Sarah.

She entered the kitchen and sat down opposite Sarah, she said nothing, while Sarah fumed and stared at her. Cameron could not understand what was making Sarah so angry this time, but it was not an unknown reaction of hers. Her emotions were in flames most of the time, and almost anything could set off her personal volcano.

"So, what is it between you two, and what the heck do you do to my son?" said Sarah.

Cameron was about to speak, when Sarah cut in with another furious question, "What do you do to him, he hasn't slept like that since he was a baby?"

Cameron opened her mouth to speak, only to be cut off once again, "What are you doing, feeding him drugs, or what?"

Cameron, finally seeing a chance to explain, said, "his octopamine receptors respond to absorbing the pheromone estratetraenol that I secrete in order to help him sleep."

"So you are manipulating him?"

Sarah, "No, not manipulating him. His sleep has been ruinous for years, and especially now, during his teen years, he needs to learn to sleep properly. All the running and hiding he has done, has given him a proper respect for the dangers he is in, but it has left him overwrought when he needs to relax. If he can learn to sleep properly now, as part of his training, it will do him the world of good in the future that faces him.

"If I take the correct food input, then my body's systems can release the appropriate pheromones at will, and he can absorb them when it is safe to do so, he can then sleep adequately.

"You have seen him this past few weeks, is he not more energetic, and lively?"

"Dammit, Cameron, how can I trust you?"

"Sarah, look at him, is he not happy? Working hard at his studies and keen to learn?"

"So, tell me about these pheromones?" said Sarah, knowing miserably, she did not want to hear the answer from this infuriating girl, dammit cyborg.

"All infiltrators have the basic ability to exude the sexual attractant pheromones, in order to do their job. It took me three tries to get the relaxant mix worked out properly to enable John to sleep properly."

Sarah's eyes opened wide, "What happened the first times?"

Cameron looked innocently at Sarah, "Well, he reacted in the way that most young men would when experiencing androstadienone or androstadienol, especially as I had added copulin."

Cameron smiled and shrugged innocently.

"It was very hard on him."

Sarah said, "So, you're planning to have sex with my boy?"

Cameron, "No, not planning." She blanked her face, and gazed steadily at Sarah. "It won't be up to me, if he wants sex, he can have that whenever and wherever he wants. I will be happy to share it with him." She regarded Sarah seriously.

Sarah's mouth dropped open, she was unable to speak.

"Sarah, while I am anatomically correct, I have not yet experienced sex. Future John did not look at me in that way.

"I hope John does. However much you might think otherwise, John knows that everything is important, and he is not certain of his mind as regards me just yet. Not the least of his problems is how you react, and that is something both he and I fear.

"If he does choose me as a partner, you can be assured I will never let him down, never be unfaithful, I think he will be the same, and I will keep him safe."

Sarah said nothing, but went into the kitchen. Cameron thought she might be going to fetch her Spas Shotgun, but she returned with a shot glass of Tequila, and sat heavily down.

"So, you and he, John, you're planning to be an item?"

Cameron looked stricken, "Sarah, I'm not supposed to hope, I'm a machine. I know that, but the emergence of my emotions are beyond my current ability to govern. I am caught out all the time, what should be easy is not, what is supposed to be difficult is easy. More than once I've caught myself wondering how on earth you humans cope with the riot going on in your heads?

"Life is easy as a terminator. You just do."

Sarah looked at her, astonished at such honesty, or was it honesty, was she being manipulated. Would she ever be sure?

"Are you doing anything else to him to help him sleep?"

Cameron replied, "No, not yet, he hasn't asked me."

Sarah sighed, and reluctantly asked the question that she would ask any other young woman sitting in her den facing the same decision, "do you love him, Cameron?"

Cameron shook her head from side to side, clearly distressed by "the" question again.

"Sarah, this question has taken over 25% of my processor time over the last month, I wish I knew the answer. I wish I knew an answer that would satisfy myself, and you, but the truth is, I simply don't know. You've grown up a human, with lots of company, and people who were in the same position as you to work out what you thought. I've had nothing like that, I badly need someone to help me. Mostly, I get criticism and misunderstanding. In technical terms, I'm only three years old, even as a most advanced learning machine, the complexities of human emotions are a mystery to me."

Sarah interjected, "Cameron, you're a killing machine, you're surprised that people are wary and nervous around you?"

Cameron stared at Sarah, as if the answer were obvious to a cretin, "I won't harm anyone as long as they are not a danger to John."

Sarah was about to speak, when Cameron held up her hand. "Let me finish, please?" This was said with such an air of authority and desperation that Sarah quieted without demur.

"Everything I do is for John, every single thing. If he is happy, well fed and safe, I feel a sense of well-being quite different to the feelings of disquiet that prevail when he is unwell, not rested, or in danger.

"Of late, when he is sleeping with his head on my lap, I 'feel' something that I can't translate into either cyborg or human language. The closest thing, I think, is 'content'.

"If he were to die, there would be no purpose in my existence, and I would not wish to exist. He is my world, if that is what you call love, then I love him. If love is something else, then I know not what to tell you."

Cameron's eyes went slightly out of focus, and she seemed to be elsewhere for a moment, then she said, "John is waking, he will expect me to be there when he wakes. I will go to him."

Sarah slugged the Tequila straight down, and rose to fetch another glass, there might be more than two, tonight. She'd have a sore head in the morning.

It couldn't be any sorer than it was now, like it was after any of her conversations with Cameron.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

**The Night Before**

0200 hours, The Baum House.

Cameron comes in from patrol, the house is quiet, her HUD assesses the situation, and she can hear John sounding disturbed up in his bed. She can also hear Sarah snoring, asleep in her bedroom.

She wants to go to John's room and knows that Sarah will disapprove if she hears her boots headed in that direction. She kneels, unlaces her boots and then, one at a time, pulls them off and places them silently on the floor. She pads tentatively up the stairs. She is apprehensive, or is it nervous? If these feelings hadn't started controlling her life, she would have just _done_ this.

Cameron opens the door and sees John in the midst of a horrendous nightmare. Alternately, he is crying out her name, or holding up his arms to protect himself, rolling side to side and sweating profusely. It never occurred to her to wonder why John was calling her name, and not that of his mother.

What she has done in the past is to place her cool hands on his forehead, and talked soothingly to him. This had calmed him down. This dream seemed, however, to be terror of a different order. She considered her position for a few seconds and sensing how overheated John already was, discarded her outer clothing, and got into bed with him.

She took hold of his sweating and shaking body, holding him close to her in a spoon. She whispered his name and hers together, while rocking him slowly. She breathed into his ears, "John and Cameron; we are one." Over and over, like a lullaby, until he relaxed into her embrace.

Her right arm rested comfortably on his right hip, and without intention, her hand fell across his hip.

An act of intimacy then took place, after which John then sighed deeply and went into the deepest sleep she had known him experience. Cameron held him gently..

She wasn't sure how she felt. She was delighted that she was able to grant John such peace, and she was really happy at having pleased him. Did she feel a need or want for more?

Was this what intimacy was for humans, an enormous sleeping drug? If so, it was a tremendously powerful tool she could use every time John couldn't sleep. Give him sex, and he'd go out like a light. She wasn't sure, though. These humans were far more complex than they appeared at first glance, there would be more to this than met the eye. Likely as not she would have committed some error that would please one and send the rest into paroxysms of rage.

Before she could give it any further thought, her sensitive hearing and her wary nature noted that she could not hear the sound of Sarah's snores. That usually meant Sarah was on the prowl, looking for trouble, which she inevitably found. Cameron had to think quickly.

Sarah, while returning from the bathroom, crossed the top of the stairs and sees Cameron's boots in the hallway. She never leaves her boots farther than a foot from her feet, she thought. There's a story there somewhere. What are those two up to?

She peered into John's room, and saw Cameron at the end of his bed, wearing a T-shirt, sitting in a perfect Lotus, holding and massaging his feet. John was sleeping the sleep of the dead, and his protector looked as content as the Buddha under the Bodhi tree.

Sarah knew Cameron knew she was watching, "Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?"*. she murmured quietly to herself. You had to be up early to catch this particular cyborg out.

**The Morning After.**

**.**

**.**

It was Monday, so time for school. Sarah was up early, burning pancakes. Cameron was keeping her head down, out of the way in her room, waiting till John was up, no desire to face Sarah Connor without an ally in the form of John, who finally made it downstairs, bright and happy, obviously well rested.

Sarah looked at him curiously, for normally he was reluctant to wake and red-eyed when he did so, a consequence of the life that he led. Concern for the future to come, his place in it, and endless nightmares about the machines he had encountered, and those who would try and kill him later. "Morning; John, you look as if you slept well."

John stretched, yawned and, hesitating, thought better of a good scratch, and said, "Yeah, like a log. That hasn't happened in a while, I wonder why? Sandman come round?"

Sarah looked daggers at him, John wondered what the heck he'd said to annoy her this time.

Cameron made her entrance, Sarah looked suspiciously at her and said, "This have anything to do with you, Tin Miss?"

"Good morning; Sarah, John. Had what anything to do with me?"

Sarah said condescendingly, "John seems to have slept very well, which for him is unusual, you been spreading those pheromones of yours around?"

"Oh, no, definitely not. I exuded no pheromones in John's direction last evening."

Sarah, "Really?"

"Really, he managed it all on his own, maybe it was the sandman." Cameron said with that irritating combination of insouciance and seriousness that ground Sarah's teeth to bleeding nubs.

Cameron gave an innocent shrug, which she knew she ought not, because it tended to drive Sarah to her .40, and said, "Really."

John looked bemused, but happy, and tucked into his pancakes, while the two women in his life bickered ceaselessly with each other. The pancake pan crashed into the sink, as Sarah stormed off out the back door.

"Wonder what's got her goat?" smirked John.

"Sarah has a goat, since when? Where does she keep it?"

John laughed out loud,. Gosh he felt so good this morning, sleep was a wonderful thing. "No, Cameron, it's another of those weird sayings we humans use, got her goat means she is angry about something."

Cameron looked seriously at John, "She seems to be losing her 'goat' quite a lot around me, doesn't she?"

John let off peals of laughter, which set Cameron on the same path, till they were both giggling helplessly.

Sarah crashed through the back door, and hissed, "Something I said?"

**Revelations**

**.**

**.**

Cameron drives to school, John sitting shotgun, they are as usual, chattering about the day to come, Sarah at breakfast, and the minutiae of their lives, when John says. "What happened, last night, in bed?"

"What do you mean, John?"

"I have never slept as hard as that, did you do something to me?"

"John, I don't know what you mean."

John can tell she is not being entirely truthful. "It's okay, Cameron. I just need to know about it. I remember going off to sleep once, then I was having a terrible nightmare, and I have a difficult time remembering what happened after that properly."

Cameron was not sure she wanted this to all come out now just as they were headed for school.

Wanting to avoid a scene, she says, "You went to sleep?" A wry edge to her voice.

John, "Did you come into my room last night?"

Around other people, Cameron was careful to behave as correctly as she could manage. With John, she didn't feel the need to bother too much. He knew what she was underneath, and so she behaved naturally, for her. Sometimes, in society, this could cause problems.

In response to John's question, she kept her head forward, with her left eye focused on the road and the traffic. Her right she swivelled, in its socket, directly toward John.

"Yeuw, that's creepy," he said.

"Yes, I did come into your room last night. You were having a terrible nightmare. I calmed you down, and you went off to sleep."

John, "So what happened was not a dream?"

As they were now stopped at a set of traffic lights, Cameron turned her full head toward John, "No, John, it was not a dream."

"Oh." He looked embarrassed, but that didn't stop him blurting out. "I sure wouldn't mind sleeping like that every night."

Cameron looked coolly him, "All you have to do is ask, and it will be."

"We have to talk, Cameron. We gotta talk."

"Of course, John, but right now, we've got school." She turned the car into the entrance.

**School Playtime**

**.**

**.**

At school, during break, Cameron and John are sitting eating cookies and drinking coffee when shouting and brawling breaks out close by. Cameron sees the big lad she threw into the pool on Saturday, pushing a skinny kid across the yard. John sees her enter steel-faced terminator mode and fails to stop her getting up and heading toward the ruckus.

She stopped behind the big fellow, who goes by the name Hector Munoz, and taps him on the shoulder. He turns with a look on his face that promises at least instant death.

Until his eyes land on Cameron.

He is about to speak, and Cameron hisses at him.

Hector is utterly confused, and intimidated all to hell and back by the little gringo bitch. He remembered only too well his flying lessons from Saturday. Getting his butt out of the deep end of the pool was the most embarrassing moment of his life. His already over-stretched trousers were torn to shreds on impact with the water, and no one could find a towel big enough to go round him.

Hector thinks about turning back toward the young fellow he was bullying, and Cameron hisses quietly once more.

The big man looks once more at the killer in the schoolyard, never realizing quite how close the fourth horseman is, and retreated toward the school buildings, muttering savagely to himself.

Cameron strolls back to John, a definite jaunty perk to her stride, as she smiles that beatific smile he loves so well. "Seems to me hissing is a very dangerous weapon to humans. I must use it more often, it takes no effort and turns big, powerful men into pussies."

"Pussies?" John cracks up at the thought of Hector Munoz, all 300 lbs of him, as a pussy, and dissolves again helplessly.

**Sarah's Thoughts**

**.**

**.**

I watch them through the window of a downtown supermarket. They are walking back to the car with groceries, I was coming from another direction and saw them not knowing they were going to be shopping. I feel guilty for watching them, unobserved.

They walk too close together. Our cover story is that they are brother and sister. Anyone seeing them for the first time would have them pegged instantly as lovers, constantly touching and reassuring one another. Giggling and laughing. Tactile as a pair of young otters.

The thing is, they've been like this for months. He doesn't seem interested in anyone else, just her.

She has absolutely NO interest outside of him.

She takes him running, to the gym, she escorts him to school, and home again. They then do their homework together, and the thing that gripes my soul more than anything else is that while he's doing the homework with her...he's happy, smiling and his grades have improved out of sight. She of course, could get 100% in every test she took if she so chose. In order to stay off the radar, she has learned to keep it to 75% in every single thing she does. If only the teachers knew that 75% is calculated to a finesse that only a terminator would understand.

Cameron's face, when she's with him, is animated, alive and her eyes glow with happiness. As John says, "If this is how the rest of the terminators work, we humans don't stand a chance." Every boy at the school is in lust with Cameron; she ignores them completely. The girls hate her, she completely ignores them too, simply could not care less.

I've managed to get her to acknowledge the neighbours and to pass the occasional friendly word with them now and again, but if it weren't for me, she wouldn't give them the time of day. She simply cares about nothing and no one other than John. She never gets fed up, bored or tired with him. He's my son, and now and again, he drives me up the wall! She never stops caring about him. At night, she sees him off to sleep, then she goes and patrols, then she checks him out, then she does the laundry. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, I can smell a roast being cooked. Yesterday we had the best pot roast I've ever tasted.

I got up early this morning, desperate for a wee. I went by John's room, the door was open a crack.

I know Cameron could hear me, there's no point in thinking you can be silent enough for her not to know you're moving, you can't.

I look through the crack in the door, and she's sitting on the end of his bed, in a Yoga position, holding Johns feet in her hands, doing some sort of foot massage on him. He is sleeping the sleep of the guiltless, and she looks like the Buddha, under the tree, in Nirvana. It looks so like two people in love; it would kill you to break it up.

I'm on the verge of believing and trusting her. She's cracking my shell, getting past my resistance.

She's unstoppable. It's not human.

I know how crazy that sounds, but it isn't! Terminators are, by their nature, intimidating; but her, she's off the scale.

John, for the first time in his life since he was a baby, is sleeping well, sometimes, praise be, going to bed before me. When Cameron first started out improving his physical conditioning, he was exhausted. It is very clear he's becoming more sharply defined, muscular and he has a spring in his step like a young colt. Along with all this, he doesn't seem frightened, or suffer the terrible nightmares that used to fill his life.

They don't know that I know, but I've seen her teaching him to dance. John is no dancer, he sees dancing about to happen and he's on the quickest bus out of town. He finds the whole thing a bit gay, I think. I've seen them dancing together out in the garage when they think I'm napping. They start off fiddling with gun cleaning, and then after a bit, she starts the portable CD player going and starts teaching him steps. I look from the bedroom window and I can see them giggling and falling over one another as they wheel round and round.

She cooks great food, she keeps a really good eye on his diet, and wonder of wonders, it isn't all rabbit food. To be truthful, I feel better when I'm eating what she prepares. Every time I'm away for a few days, I eat road food and feel like crap. She knows her nutrition, does that girl - - dammit, see what happens? She's a MACHINE, and I'm thinking of her as a girl.

We're all doomed.

Cameron knows I disapprove mightily of the union, but truth is, what could be more natural?

John understands and has always had an affinity with machines that no one else we know has had. This is despite his being the target of their murderous intent at least twice. He understands that it is not the machine that is at fault, and in this modern technology, he is one of the few who understand that we have to make an alliance with the machines in order to survive.

There have been matches throughout history that have been made for reasons other than love, European royal families have made an enterprise out of it, and how many political marriages are there in Washington? The point of those marriages working is that the successful ones were those who were born and trained for it.

Who else in the world is trained as she and John to be together?

I've got to believe they love one another, I've just got to.

They know what they are to one another, and that puts them a step or two ahead of most other unions.

Who would really be better for him?

As his mother, I should be happy, but I am not. She's every mothers dream of a girlfriend for her son, but she's a cyborg.

Me? I'm a complete mess.

**Relations**

**.**

**.**

John is embarrassed and doesn't know how to bring up the subject of what happened between them. Cameron is much less concerned with such matters. For her, sex is a matter of simple anatomy.

Until last night.

Cameron says, "John, don't be embarrassed. You know I've said that when I do a good job, or you are happy, I get a feeling of content?"

John, "Yes, I remember."

"After last night, I was very content. Seeing you sleep properly was very rewarding."

John, "Cameron, we had sex!"

Cameron, "Not according to Bill Clinton." She smiled gracefully, "Did you enjoy yourself?"

John, "Yes, of course I did."

Cameron, "Then what's the problem?"

John was silent, looking lost for words.

Cameron's face fell as the knife blade slid between her 3rd and 4th ribs, no obstruction felt by the blade from the intercostal muscles. Right into the heart of her nascent emotion simulator that was just learning to live.

"Oh, because I'm a cyborg?"

John, "No, no, uh- -yes."

Cameron could not avoid the crushing pain this revelation brought. She knew that it was an issue but had thought what she was doing was for the right reasons, her cyborg nature irrelevant. As in many situations involving humans and their peculiar moral codes, she had once again got it wrong.

She said nothing, unable to find anything that might resemble the right words, but stared at John, trying to keep the hurt from showing. She tried to put on her terminator mask, but it failed her utterly. Her emotion simulator had gone rogue on her, no longer in any kind of control. Emotions came unbidden and unwanted, at the worst of times.

John took the two steps to her, and even though she did not want to be held, he embraced her. She struggled, not using her full terminator strength trying to push him away, and it hurt him to hold on, but he did.

"Cameron. Cameron, calm down. This is awkward, and I realise I'm being a bit of an idiot, but my head is doing flips with the situation."

He knew he had to be very careful with what words he used right now, and wished he had studied English better, so he knew the correct thing to say. Cameron had perfect recall and would replay any conversation she didn't fully understand for hours afterward.

He could not, MUST NOT put her through that, again.

Do and say the right thing, he thought as Cameron finally stopped struggling. That would save on the bruises, he thought, well, the bruises on the outside, at least. Cameron was shaking and sobbing, so quietly he could hardly hear her. He tried to lift her head, to kiss her, but she refused, and moving a terminator's head when she doesn't want it moved isn't possible. He held her till the sobbing stopped, feeling like an absolute heel.

He could think of nothing to do but to stroke her shoulders and hair, and to kiss her neck, which was the only part of her to which he could gain access. After some time she relented and raised her face to him. She was drenched with tears, make up smudged and ruined. He could see how much he'd pain he'd caused her. Her distress cut through him like a lazy wind, and he understood just how difficult gaining emotions was for a terminator.

There was no simulation about this. Cameron was distraught.

Would he spend the rest of his life apologising to his best friend, and lover?

"Cameron, I'm so sorry, I'm really sorry. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before. I have no experience of women, and no experience beyond a bit of fumbling with Kate Brewster. What we did was the first time for me."

Cameron looked at him, clearly stunned by the revelation. "Is that true, John?"

"Cameron, look, I don't expect you to believe this. You'll think I'm shining you on, but truth is, whenever I was with Kate, all I could think about was you. I felt guilty being with her, because I wanted to be with you instead. We never got beyond kissing."

Cameron, quietly and shakily says, "It was my first time, too. You might think I know what I'm doing, and of course from an infiltrator viewpoint I do, anatomically. What we're programmed to do is just learn what the people we are infiltrating desire; and do that, but the infiltrator doesn't care about the person they're with.

"I do care about you, and it makes a world of difference. What we did felt natural. I didn't think about it at all. I was just trying to help you sleep, by holding you, and one thing- - led to- another.

"After you had gone to sleep, I was so content to be lying with you, listening to your heart beat, and then I heard your mother coming along the corridor.

"I would not have been content to have to leave you."

John smiled gently and said, "Cameron, this is difficult, I am only a kid. My mind has been concentrated on fighting robots and my education hasn't been regular. My Mom is pretty wild, and I can do all sorts of things you don't learn in school, but relationships I suck at. We're just going to have to find our way through this together."

He held her tight, and whilst he knew it was a machine he was holding, every inch of that machine was his girl.

Every now and again when he was with Cameron, he could hear the faintest swish of servos and pistons inside her. He was intrigued with that aspect of her, for she was so graceful. For some reason, once he'd got used to it, it was just part of her. He loved that part of her, too.

Cameron was always odour neutral. John disliked strong smells, and with the endless unguents and perfumes girls seemed to plaster upon themselves these days, he loved that she eschewed that pestilence. She always smelled clean, and he loved her for it.

Just his kind of funny girl, hissing cyborg, partner and protector.

"Know this, I have the best girl and friend in the world."

Cameron's emotion simulator flushed her face, and she said, "But John - - I'm a Ma - -Mach - -?"

"The best, and only girl for me. I'd be lost without you. Don't ever leave me Cameron, I can't make it without you."

Cameron melted into his embrace, her misery of a few moments ago abating in the warmth of their touch.

Machine and man were one, undivided.

*(who will watch the watchers)


	7. Chapter 7

The Dealer

Jose-Luis Munoz was holding court at his house downtown, all his soldiers were present. _Not so sure about correct, _he grinned to himself_. _He had assembled his crew over the last ten years since his restaurant failed. America was a hard place to make it, and he had tried the legal route. It hadn't worked, so he had gone the other way. A little help to a "coyote" or two, and then some storage of things his customers did not want to see the light of day. Now and again a bit of drugs movement. He kept in with his compañeros, and didn't work with any of the other types of eastern Europeans, Africans and liquorice all sorts that were fouling up the business of crime these days.

His son, Hector, had grown up to be a big boy. Sadly, not a big man. Continual issues at schools, poor results, and constant difficulty with teachers and students, usually to do with violence and theft.

Now this latest nonsense with the girl in the swimming pool. At first he did not believe it, but he had heard about the incident from another of his occasional hermanos who worked at the pool cantina. The girl throwing Hector from the cantina right into the centre of the pool. He had not believed. His son weighed 300 lb and he found it hard to envisage even a powerful man capable such a prodigious feat. His son was insistent, but Hector and truth were strangers most of the time, so Jose-Luiz had his doubts.

Then witnesses he trusted insisted that something, "Madres Di Dios" miraculous had happened, and so Jose-Luiz had decided to find out if this girl could be of assistance to his efforts. He had been having trouble with the soldiers of a rival gang of West Indians of late, and if he could recruit her, she could be most useful. He decided to approach her and the boy she was forever to be seen with, this John Baum, apparently her brother.

Contact

Hector Munoz had been trying to get John Baum away from that damned sister of his all week, but the bitch had been like a limpet. She never left his side. The guy didn't even seem to need to use the rest room without her waiting outside. It was damned creepy. Hector never had any trouble keeping girls like that away from him. He wondered what Baum's secret was?

It was getting to Friday, and his father had been getting on his arse about it all week, so today had to be the day.

Just before lunch, he saw Baum by the lockers, at last without his shadow. He got as close to a run as 300 lbs of blubber could get. As he puffily reached John, he heard a hiss behind him. His skin prickled, and he knew he was busted.

"What you do want, big pussy boy?" said Cameron. "Don't think you can creep around and I won't see you."

"Don't call me that, girl." Hector's courage was wavering, but he had to give it a try.

"You called me a gringo bitch, so I threw you into the pool. I'll call you what the hell I want, pussy boy."

John: "Hey, knock it off you two. What do you want Hector? make it quick; I have class."

"Tell me, mano, why the hissing sister always around you, huh? You frightened to be about on your own? People are talking."

"My sister and me grew up together. Our Dad died, so there's only the three of us. We all look after each other."

"How come she so strong?"

"She works out every day. You could follow her example, bro."

Hector looked at John, pissed off, started to aim the look at Cameron, head half swung toward her. Seeing her death glare, about to hiss, he decided against it. That hiss was the stuff of his nightmares.

"Okay, my padre, he wants to meet you. He wants to make an offer."

John, "What? he has nothing to offer us. We're not in business."

"You will like this offer."

Cameron, "We have nothing to trade, what do you want?"

"Come, meet my Padre, he will explain it all."

The school bell rang.

Lunch

As soon as class finished and they were at lunch, Cameron got straight to it with John. "John, we can't have anything to do with the family Munoz, they are criminals and drug runners."

"Just the kind of people my mother ran with for 10 years when I was growing up. Let's give 'em a shot, see what they have to say."

Cameron was deeply disturbed. Nothing good would come of this.

"I've got a bad feeling about this John. I should have killed him when I had the chance."

"Jeez, relax, Cameron. No one is going to get killed. We'll talk to them and put them off."

As a Terminator, Cameron did not know the meaning of fear or pain, just got the job done. If it was a suicide job, it didn't matter; she was a machine, all that mattered was the central will of Skynet. Her survival was not important in the scheme of things.

Now that her feelings, and cheese Louise- she'd learned that one from Sarah yesterday- her feelings for and toward John were bursting into full fruition. Every damn thing mattered with an intensity she found tough to bear or control. John helped as he could, but he was human. All this feelings stuff was hard wired into him and he could understand it. What was she now, a chimera?

See? This was doubt, she never had this when she was a terminator full time. So much time wasted on decision making, checking and wondering about how other people felt about things. Absolutely bloody maddening!

I just can't go into the Munoz place, bust 'em all up a treat and make like Mrs. Scarce, like I should do. I gotta consult with John to make sure the radar isn't popping off like Atlanta Airport during turkey weekend. If it was just me, I'd just go in and blow the Munoz place to bits, and who ever died, well, it was their problem, wasn't it? Now we got to make a plan and pussyfoot around like wusses...grrr!

_I should have killed Munoz, maybe I'll get to kill him, his gang, and set fire to the bus they came in on later. Maybe that'll stop these demons, and we can go back to kissing and hugging on the qui vive, or the couch without my nemesis Sarah around. _

_That would be nice, very nice._

Business Meeting

Jose-Luiz Munoz has never seen his son so dismasted. He was a big blowhard, but his size usually made up for any lack of courage underneath. With the might of the family mafia behind his obvious bulk, he got away with bullying all kinds of kids he shouldn't. It was a tough world, and sooner or later, he'd have to prove his cojones, or someone would eat them for him. Life is tough, then you die, right?

What was it with this girl? why was Hector unnerved by her, she'd whipped him into a complete rabbit.

Hector had come home tonight to say that John had agreed to a meet, so he'd get to see them soon. The meet was arranged for a few minutes' time. The boy, John Baum, approached the door to his house very warily, his "sister" by his side as always. If anything she was more wary, her eyes flickering like a hunter. Interesting that they hadn't parked their car right outside the house, but left it out of sight. The boy entered the house, and then as the girl walked in, the dogs went berserk.

Two were on leads and under control. The Rhodesian Ridgeback, usually the quiet one, launched itself at her, teeth bared. The girl never wavered. She watched the dog approach As it reached her, she picked it up by the back of its neck with her left hand as if it weighed nothing, and in the same movement, used her right hand to close off its windpipe. It lost consciousness almost immediately.

Hector started screaming at the top of his lungs. This was his favourite hunting dog.

John said, "Cameron, don't kill the dog, please."

Cameron, looking as sweetly deadly as ever, said, "You told me I could kill anything that meant me harm, didn't you?"

John, "Yes, I know I told you that, but I'm asking you, please, don't kill the dog, now."

Cameron placed the dog gently on the floor.

She said something to John, which sounded to Munoz like; "We're not built to be cruel," and then Hector took the dog off, coughing and wheezing.

Jose-Luiz knew she was just a girl, but she was different, and he was apprehensive. He began to understand why his boy was frightened.

John sat down . While he looked like a teenage boy, he was clearly wary. He knew to the inch exactly where his sister was at all times. If he didn't know better, Munoz would say that both these kids were battle-trained in a hard place.

Nah, they were just kids. He was letting his son spook him. What nonsense!

"So, Mr. Baum, we have a mutual interest."

"What's that; Mr. Munoz?"

"Your sister, Mr. Baum, I have need of her talents."

"She's not for sale or hire, Mr Munoz, so we'll just leave now."

"Mr Baum, we have a transport need. I need you and your sister to go down to Cuidad Juarez and collect a small shipment of material for me."

John looked at Cameron, both knowing without doubt that their passports and I.D. Documents would be unlikely to pass the scrutiny of a mall cop, not to mind that of a border agent.

"Mr. Munoz, we're leaving now."

"Good evening, Mr. Baum, Miss Baum. We'll talk again."

At that point, Jose-Luiz' phone rang, and a short, muffled conversation took place. Munoz snapped the phone back in place and said, "Would you like to see your mother again, Mr. Baum"?

Afternoon Delight

After the first time of John and Cameron sharing the delights of mutual sexual adventure, John's attitude toward Cameron had changed markedly. He accepted her cyborg reality with a sure footed confidence that surprised her. He was constantly finding new means of expression of his interest in her internal mechanics or thought processes. When he had questions, he would explore it with a sense of enquiry that delighted her.

One evening he found, that for some reason, the area around her outer hips was, or so it seemed to him particularly sensitive to his touch. So he spent time there, touching, squeezing, kissing and nipping. To Cameron's great enjoyment. She was too kind to mention-and what did it matter anyway, that she was capable of increasing the sensitivity of the nerve nexus anywhere on her body. It didn't matter, they were both enjoying a mutually satisfying physical relationship. Another day, he would be more interested in her shoulders or frontal superstructure. He always loved her breasts and nipples, so she would send the sensitivity there. The level of content she felt when she was with him was maximal most of the time and while they were making love, it went beyond her machine and dictionary description. She had searched the lexicography of the world for something suitable, and could only come up with "very" content.

It would do.

Things around the house had settled into a peaceful co-existence with Sarah. Cameron knew Sarah was not thrilled by her son's choice of partner, and underneath was hoping that eventually John or circumstances would part them; but for now, a truce had been drawn up. Although Cameron loved to demonstrate her care to John physically, verbally, and in any way that occurred to her as the day passed by, she had grown used to a degree of politesse regarding their physical relationship and would keep the touch private to when they were alone as best she could.

Cameron would patrol late at night, see that things were safe, then make her way to John's room, and snuggle up with him. Some nights they would cuddle, and she would glory in the fact of him sleeping in her arms. He was nightmare free, waking with the sun, full of vim and vigour to begin the assault on the day. Some nights they would be lovers, but careful, slow, and quiet was their watchword.

When Cameron could tell John's passions were getting the better of his control, she would arrange to take him to a quiet beach where they would make love and all the noise they wanted. The sussurous of the waves would mask their escaping cries. They always took a picnic, which was ignored in the first rising waves of passion, then eaten after their love making. After a short rest, they would return to horizontal activities. It was John who needed the rest, of course. Cameron was capable of sex pretty much all day, every day, but chose not to share that secret with her partner, just yet.

John slept very well those nights, post picnic, and for some reason, Sarah always gave them "that" look on their return, which made John skulk around like a guilty teenager.

Cameron didn't mind. For some reason unknown to herself, she was developing an ironic sense of humour that left her smiling when humans around her were displaying signs of frustration or anger.

Sarah was getting used to the idea of them sharing a bed, of course Cameron never slept. Well, it saved on laundry, surely that was a practical application, necessary in these hard times? Sarah would wander by, in the short watches of the night, muttering to herself while she visited the bathroom, odd how older folks were less able to control their bladders. Cameron wondered sometimes if, rather than it being a bladder malfunction, it was a nightly check in the manner of Cameron's own patrol to see if her son were safe.

Cameron knew she could reassure Sarah till the seas ran dry, it would just be words for Sarah to panic by.

The Munoz House

Cameron looked at Jose-Luiz and said; "Those are dangerous words. Are you sure you are ready to sup with the devil, Mr. Munoz?" John was being quiet, he was beginning to fill himself up with scared thoughts about his mother, and Cameron knew this was a time for her to take command.

"What have you done with Sarah?" Cameron asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jose-Luis smiled and said, "She is sitting, uncomfortably, in a warehouse, being entertained by my colleagues. I have a task for you to perform. If you carry out that task to my satisfaction, I will release Mrs. Baum to you unharmed apart from those few bruises she obtained while being invited to join our entertainment." Cameron could imagine the fight that Sarah had put up. They would have had no idea of her indomitable fury and must have overwhelming force to have taken her at all.

"What is it that you require?" said Cameron.

"A party of friends, south of the border, have obtained a quantity of cocaine for me. My regular mules have unfortunately come to the attention of the border patrol, and I have no means of getting my supply. Hence I have reluctantly asked for your help."

"What guarantee do we have that you will not harm Sarah?" Whispered Cameron.

"You have my word, she will not be harmed, provided she does not try to escape, or you try to free her before our business is concluded. You have 48 hours to deliver my produce."

"Your word is good because, what? You are a criminal and a drug dealer?"

Jose Luis shrugged his shoulders and smiled sweetly.

With one easy motion, Cameron slid the Heckler and Koch Socom .45 out of her pants and fired thirteen perfect shots round Hector Munoz's head as he stood against the wooden post of the entryway. Not a round struck him, and he did not have time to move before Cameron had sheathed the gun again. As Hector fell away from the post in complete certitude of having been shot to shit, and dead, he looked round to see a perfect outline of his head where the rounds had hit.

"Mr. Munoz, I do not normally offer the luxury of a warning, ordinarily, I just kill on sight, so feel lucky. Harm Sarah, and I will come back for you, and everything you hold dear. I will be your personal Día de los Muertos, but you won't be celebrating." Cameron said.

She took the papers Munoz handed her containing details of the drug shipment and walked out, keeping John in front of her.

Over the wall we go

John was fretting.

"Couldn't we have fought there, Cameron?"

"John, we were in no position to do so. We have no allies with Sarah, we have no choice but to do as they wish for now, and see what happens. We'll get Sarah back, I promise you."

"How on earth are we going to go south of the border, with our shitty documentation and back out again without setting fire to the border patrol?" he wailed.

"I already have a plan, don't worry."

Cameron and John stole a pick-up truck in town because they didn't want to use a vehicle that could be traced to them, and then made their way to the small private air force base at the Northern Navajo Medical Centre at Shiprock, NM, only thirty miles from Red Valley. They parked the truck up in some trees and hid it well with brush, hoping it would still be there on their return.

The base was attached to the Navajo Hospital, and while it could be busy during the day, it was rarely used at all at night. With the cost cutting of today, there were no security guards posted at night. There were one or two staffing the front of the hospital, but the vast acreage of the AFB was completely uncovered by security or cameras. There were a few private planes in garages and chocked. They found a Cessna Corvalis TT, a single engine, fast and capable little plane that would easily get them across the border and back. It was within a reasonably secure hangar, but as was usual with AFB's, once you'd got past the initial security of the gates and the walls, there was no real security. The keys to the plane were sitting in its ignition, and its fuel tank was full.

John said, "You reckon there are never any thieves at airports, Cameron?"

"Obviously, we're the first." she grinned.

Cameron telephoned the dealer south of the border and using Jose-Luis Munoz' voice, asked that they be met with the consignment, at an area close to the town of Puerto De Anapra. She gave the dealer the GPS reference, and while he bitched and moaned about the change, she knew he would be there, if he wanted his money. The money was a pile of used dollars, some $200,000, in a solid aluminium attache case.

Cameron started the engine, and began to taxi the plane from its hangar to the strip. John, suddenly concerned, said. "Since when did you learn to fly, Cameron?"

"I can't, or at least, I never have. I have this airplane model's schematics in my memory, and I know the theory of flight, but this will be a first for me."

John looked at her face, calm and peaceful, while he shook his head. "Have you ever played flight sim?"

"Nope, not once; but we'll be okay as long as the weather doesn't get too horrible."

The weather crossing the New Mexico/Texas/Mexico border could be very rough at times. He crossed his fingers and tightened up his seat belt as they taxied onto the runway. Cameron had no need for lighting, but for John this meant that taking off in the dark was a nightmare of fear of the unknown.

They had set no flight plan, and were going to fly very low altitude in order to keep off the radar of the border patrol. There were plenty of places to hide in the air, and satellites were only so effective during the day, much less so in the night.

Cameron steered the plane onto the runway, and accelerated quickly, pulling the joystick back as soon as takeoff velocity was achieved, and the plane zoomed into the sky, lit by a million stars. John could see the outlines of a few roads and car headlights, together with towns and buildings, but had no idea how to make out where they were headed.

"John, don't worry, it'll only be a 90 minute flight", Cameron reassured. They flew on into the night, leaving civilization behind as they crossed into the darkness of the desert and the brooding outline of the Gila Forest beckoning.

The next hour was quiet, and they didn't say much to one another as John sat transfixed at Cameron's easy mastery of the control panel of the plane which had enough switches and dials to entirely unnerve him. Cameron flicked switches here and there, and now and again he noticed when she raised the height of the plane swiftly when arroyos or hillocks came into her view. He could tell from the altimeter that she was flying at an average of 125 feet at the plane's maximum speed of 235 knots, which in the addled remains of his maths studies was something like 270 mph.

As they approached the border, John could see the town of El Paso to the south east, and Cameron became quieter and more concentrated. No doubt this was where the border patrol would be at their most obvious.

Cameron hauled on the stick and pulled the plane sharply to the left and changed course radically, as a streak of light flew by to the left and exploded violently in the forest below. "What the fuck was that?" screamed John.

"UAV of some sort." Cameron's chip was whirling. A UAV should not be available to Skynet just yet, that isn't due for 10 years or so, even for testing. If it were a Skynet UAV, they were sunk, and she knew it. Skynet UAV's were much faster and were equipped with armaments that would make short work of the Cessna. She had only caught it by luck, seeing a flash of silver out in the sky at her 9 o'clock. Immediately wheeling the plane into a defensive manouevre, they avoided the first shot by a few feet. The ordnance was also conventional, not plasma, and was a hellfire or similar, which was current to this time. Maybe they had a chance after all. The UAV seemed slow and did not appear to be attempting to catch them.

She carried out a further avoidance manouevre, which had John whining and shouting again in fear as another hellfire shot past. Cameron had now calculated the speed and trajectory of the UAV and saw that it was an MQ-1 Predator. That was great news, because it could only fly at 125 mph or so, and was equipped with only two hellfire missiles. Bad enough, but it was now out of ammunition, and could only monitor their progress.

Cameron could not let that happen, so she yelled at John. "If I hold the plane steady, can you reach into the back and get out the big shotgun in the long case?" John did so and found a Saiga 12 shotgun with what appeared to be a drum magazine underneath. Cameron said, "If I fly close to the drone, can you point that thing out of the window and shoot it out of the sky? If you hit it close to the tanks, it'll blow. The rounds in the shotgun have special tips. I was hoping to save them for an emergency, but now looks time enough."

John, relieved at last to be able to contribute something to tonight's action, gave a rebel yell and said, "Bring it on, sister."

"You're used to guns John, but that thing makes a big bang, so get ready. Put the first two on target. Then when you've hit it, give it the full magazine."

Cameron stalked the now unarmed predator, which was heading back on a bearing that would take it back to its base at Fort Huachuca , in southwest Arizona. It would never make it home now, and as she brought the Cessna alongside, and reduced air speed to match it, John poked the Saiga out of the side window, popped off to sighting shots. Then emptied the rest of the entire magazine into the central body of the UAV, destroying its fuel tanks and its control systems. She muscled the Cessna away to the right as the UAV exploded into a fountain of raging shards of steel and flames.

"Oh dear, that is going to piss off the Pentagon." Said John.

Cameron brought the plane in to land, an hour before dawn at the meeting point in a flat patch of desert immediately south-west of Puerta de Anapra. She brought it gently to a halt close to some scrub. John noted with awe that the flight had taken exactly 93.5 minutes. As the encounter with the UAV had taken about three minutes, that fit exactly with Cameron's forecast of 90 minutes flight time.

"You can get into the back of the cabin and have a sleep if you'd like, we have two hours before our meeting." John had an exciting night, filled with stress, and didn't need telling twice. Cameron had half hoped that this might have been another opportunity to scratch another mark on her bedpost, but it was not to be tonight. She could wait. She was a terminator, after all.

Munoz Warehouse

Leobaldo Medina was bored. He was watching over the pretty dark-haired gringo bitch they had kidnapped. She had been the cat from hell; and it had taken six of them, all had gotten bruises from the encounter. He finally swiped her round the head with a lump of wood which shut her up. Ever since she had been tied to the big chair, she had been cursing them non-stop. The boss had warned them all, with blood curdling threats, that she was not to be harmed, until and unless he said so.

Leobaldo thought this was unfair; mostly gringo bitches they brought in were for ransom, but also for a little entertainment for the troops. The women enjoyed it, eventually, or at least they did if you hit them hard enough. A little sport enriches everyone's lives. He rather wished he could have some sport with this little hellcat. He would rather enjoy cowing her feisty spirit. Those were always the best fun in the end. If they died in the process, that was sometimes regrettable.

He heard her moaning, "Agua, agua." Not unnaturally, the girl was thirsty, no problem. He'd give her water. He got her a bottle of water from the fridge, and held the bottle for her to drink. She slugged the whole thing down, spilling some on her shirt. The treacherous trails of water exposed the fact that his prisoner was not wearing anything underneath her shirt. The slut was asking for it, all these white bread women were the same, sluts!

He kneaded her breasts, even though she was yelling and screaming. "Get your fucking hands off me, I'll kill you." Sarah yelled.

"Just how will you do that? woman of fire." Leobaldo ripped her shirt open, from neck to waist, exposing her breasts completely. He was beginning to enjoy himself and fumbled his rough hands over her chest with glee. Sarah was yelling and bitching and fighting to get the chair further away from him, but she could now go no further as she was up against the wall.

Deserted

Cameron gently placed her lips on John's as he lay asleep. She didn't want to wake him, he had little sleep, and was still deep in the arms of Morpheus. She loved to watch him at peace. He passed that peace to her, and it gave her great content to be with him when he was asleep.

It was her favourite thing that he did.

Sadly, it was to be a busy day, so she had to wake up her man. She gently increased the pressure of the kiss on his lips; and his eyes finally opened. He returned the kiss, reaching his arms round her. He had gotten used to his lover being awake when he was not, and his eyes were instantly full of passion for her. He gripped her tight.

Cameron laughed, "You really are quite the nature boy, aren't you? Not now, lover boy, we have some bad men to meet, and they are just half an hour away.

Later, I promise, later."

T.B.C.


	8. Chapter 8

Desert Meetings

"Cameron, do you trust these guys?"

She looked steadily at John, "about as far as you could throw them."

John laughed with tension breaking delight. Whether she knew it or not, and he could never be sure. Cameron's genius for triple irony ran through her every gesture and spoken word. If, like most humans encountering her sly humour, you figured she was just a dumb machine, you'd take it as a witless assimilation attempt. For John, who knew her better, the irony ran through her manner like butterflies in Summer.

She was constantly testing out words and phrases, sometimes getting them so right she brought originality to an old saw. Sometimes getting them so wrong that you'd be forced to question whether she did that on purpose, too. Always delivered with her. "Thank you for explaining" wooden facial expression. She could be hilarious, touching and plangent, then needy, all in the same gallic shrug.

He often wondered, who's on first.

The Tin Miss had a heart all along; most humans weren't smart enough to see it. He wondered if Cameron ever felt lonely? Apart from him, she stood apart. She seemed content. There it was again, that word she used. He smiled to himself, she had embedded herself, even her lexicon into his brain.

He would see what he could do about that in the times to come. People would be mean about his Tin Miss at their peril. She would not be lonely if there was anything John could do about it.

Cameron looked at him querulously, "What did I say?"

John looked at her with all the love in his heart and said, "Nothing, Cameron. I'm just learning to understand all the things that I don't always appreciate about you, is all. I'm just an ordinary human, and it is taking me a little while. It's freakin' big." He smiled as she reacted to their shared memory and then reached up and held her to him, tight.

Cameron didn't have a clue what was up with her human, but humans were strange at all hours of the day. What did it matter? He was hugging her and obviously happy, which meant that all was well. She was content.

Much as she enjoyed the hug from her man, it was time to be preparing for the arrival of her guests with guns. She was not too concerned for her own safety, while no doubt violent men and well armed, they were unlikely to have anything like the firepower or tactics to harm her in any way other than superficial. Cameron wanted to avoid gunplay if possible, because if for some reason, the plane could not be used for the journey home, that would be troublesome. They were on a tight timetable. The authorities will not have taken kindly to the downing of one of their very expensive new toys, the predator drone. There were sure to be cops and border agents and who knows whatever else was within the armoury of a paranoid government. If her face or appearance were damaged in some way, that would make it difficult to get back across the border using legal means. That was trouble enough already.

It was unlikely that the gangsters would take the arrival of two teenagers, even with a suitcase full of money, too seriously as any kind of challenge. Chances were, they would be opportunistic about that money. Again, she didn't want John exposed to risk, but was sure he would insist on getting involved whether she wanted it or no. She would have to try to find a way he could be partly a hero, and she could keep him behind her coltan barrier.

Humans never give you an easy day.

Cameron had, as was her wont, been reading up on the news related to the city of Cuidad Juarez and the general area of Chihuaha. The murder of young women had been a continuous problem for years, and had acquired the phrase: "las muertas de Juárez" for the thousands of femicides over the last few years. She had no doubt that these bad men she was about to meet, would regard her as they did other young women.

She would let that be their problem.

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Warehouse

Sarah's yelling blue murder had eventually raised Cain in the form of Jose-Luiz Munoz to the warehouse. He took in the sight of Sarah, tied to the chair, shirt ripped open to the waist exposing her breasts. Leobaldo was fondling her nipples and alternately slapping her face. Jose-Luiz knew that this was a whole heap of plenty trouble coming. He pulled out his Colt Magnum .38 and blasted off two rounds 20 feet or so to the left of the pair, which brought shocked cessation from Leobaldo.

"I sorry boss, she is an attractive woman, and I ain't had no woman in a long time".

Jose-Luiz snarled, and yelled loudly for his wife Constanza. When she scurried in, he said, "Cover her up for now and get her a new shirt."

Constanza took off her sweater and put it about Sarah's shoulders, covering her up as best she could.

Jose-Luiz struck Leobaldo across the face with his pistol, and said, "Do you have any idea what will happen if you harm that woman?" he pointed to Sarah.

"They just a couple of punk-assed kids, boss."

Jose-Luiz pointed the pistol directly toward Leobaldo's face and said quietly, "do you understand the meaning of this?"

Leobaldo hung his head in shame, "yes boss, no more trouble."

Jose-Luiz had heard that before, and gave Leobaldo another slap across the other side of his face for good measure.

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Hot Lead

John heard the vehicles approach and hated the fact that he was not with Cameron. She had persuaded him that tactically, it was safer if he were in a sniper position, and she carried out the trade. He still hated it, and while he was itching to get involved, he knew that the gang offered little threat to Cameron, whereas they would be a significant threat to his safety. He knew his survival was important, and hated it. It was his curse and his responsibility. Cameron had as always, refused to let her out of her sight without him being fully covered up in all the bullet proof vest she could find. She had stolen this "dragon skin" from a delta force group who had been training in New Mexico. The Army recruitment had come to their school, and had two Delta Force members with their weapons and kit to show off. Cameron had just stolen in to their hotel room during the night and liberated the vests, along with several other shiny items of kit.

The recruiters had clocked her on leaving the hotel but she looked so innocently feminine they saw now risk, and hadn't thought to check her outsize bag. They wouldn't have been able to lift it, containing as it did, two Heckler and Koch XM29 SABR "objective individual combat weapon" along with the vests and grenades. Those two officers would be writing letters home from latrine duty in horrible-istan for ever.

The XM29 was perfect for Cameron, it was a 5.56 rifle, and a grenade launcher all rolled into one. Too heavy to be practical in combat for human soldiers, it was just fine and dandy for a female terminator who could bench press a truck with one hand. Cameron could fire one in each hand with ease, and the grenades were just the icing on the cake.

For this mission, Cameron had handed the Barrett .50 sniper rifle to John, and placed him at a 30' degree angle to the anticipated area of conflict, if it occurred, as she expected it to. He also had a Heckler and Koch Socom .45, which if she had a favourite, was Cameron's preferred weapon. Light and reasonably concealable, it packed a wallop of a scorned woman and was almost as accurate as a rifle. In her hands, it was. Cameron did like the German gun manufacturer's weapons, "in a world of compromise, some don't." Entirely appropriate, she thought, as she prepared to meet the representatives of the Sinaloa Cartel, who would assuredly not compromise with her. So be it.

John was bitching and moaning to himself, even at 0800 HRS it was 92 F and all manner of bugs were invading his space. He told himself to keep quiet and keep still, with eyes on the target area, Cameron would be relying on him to do his part and that was as big a motivation as he could get.

The men of the Juarez cartel hove to along the ridge of the arroyo, three large Toyota Land Cruisers. They held position for five minutes while scanning the area. When all they could see was a single white female, carrying one shoulder bag and a single aluminium attaché case, they proceeded forward.

Sensible S.O.P. was for one vehicle to hang back, out of range, while two would go forward to the meet. When they saw this was just a lone woman, a girl, they decided to go in and make the deal. Make it work for themselves, too. Although Munoz was loosely connected to the Sinaloa cartel, he wasn't a big wheel. Parting this girl from her money, and leaving her as critter food would be an easy mornings work.

As she watched them approach, Cameron was marvelling at quite how stupid men can be, even hard, dangerous men like these.

The three cars stopped about 20 yards from her, exactly where she expected them, the flattest piece of land around. She had chosen her place carefully, John was now exactly in the right place, with a decent view of them, in range and if she were attacked, he could join in the fray.

The three cars stopped in line, and four men got out of the centre car. All wearing business suits on a broiling day, like Reservoir Dogs they walked in line toward Cameron, sitting calmly on the attaché case.

One man spoke in a harsh baritone, "Do you have my money?"

"I do."

"Show it to me."

Cameron got up slowly from the attaché case, she knew that any sudden movement would cause nervousness. As she coiled up, three of the men reached behind them, no doubt checking their pistols were ready.

Cameron confidently put the case on the ground in front of her. "I believe you have something for me?"

"Yes, it is in the car. Give me the money first, girlie."

"I will give you the money when you give me the drugs, and don't call me girlie."

The gang leader had to listen carefully, because the girls voice had become so soft, but he swore he could hear her being insolent. Little bitch, he'd teach her a lesson.

He turned to one of his campaneros and drew his finger across his throat. As soon as his hand started downward toward his pistol, he saw the front of the Toyota he had arrived in crumple into a mush. Something had hit where the engine block had been and blown it to bits.

Cameron smiled, John had done his job perfectly. At the first sign of threat, he had taken out the first car. If there was any further movement from the cars, they would suffer the same fate.

In a moment of crazed macho idiocy, the men in the other two cars got out and headed toward Cameron and the other four men. If they had any sense whatever, they would have gotten out of town fast.

The leader whipped round gun in hand pointed at Cameron and shouted, "Give me my money or I kill you now."

Cameron replied, "At least you learned enough not to call me girlie. Give me my drugs and I'll give you your money and let you walk out of her alive."

"Madre Di Dios." The little bitch had the insolence to threaten him! He would show her what the men of Cuidad Juarez did to such silly girlies.

Cameron could see the man's face turning puce, and as his finger tightened on the trigger, she drew her .45 and dropped him and his three companions. Double tapping each of them before any could get off a shot. Two loud booms from John's direction told her that the other two Toyota engine blocks were destroyed and she set about killing the rest of the men. She managed six and John got the other two as they were running away.

This was a clear up job. While regrettable, they had agreed that once the job had become kinetic, Cameron and John had decided the opposition were to have no survivors. They did not want to risk of one of them getting a message back to Jose-Luiz and putting Sarah in further danger. No risk of long lasting enemies from south of the border. These folks were criminals and some of the nastiest to be found anywhere. The world would not miss them and plenty of other opportunists would fill their shoes within a few days.

They had discussed the possibilities for the encounter for hours beforehand, and John had completely understood Cameron's repetition of the old middle eastern axiom that advised those who had to kill only to do so when necessary. "Each murder is like a footprint you leave. Kill only those you must." It was when they had these long conversations about the dichotomy between necessary violence and that carried out by thugs that he understood how terminators were indeed, "not built to be cruel." He thought Cameron could go to the end of her existence and never hurt a soul if it were not vital.

Cameron gathered up all the cell phones and searched through the gang's Toyotas till she found the cocaine and to her surprise that these criminals were even stupider than she had originally thought. There were four bags full of white powder in the centre truck, no doubt three dealers awaiting supply today would go unfulfilled.

She set explosives in the vehicles and waited for John, who arrived a few moments later filled with the post firefight excitement. At these times, the bodies didn't seem quite so important as they would become in his nightmares in later times. She was delighted with John's performance in what was under any view, a ruthlessly vicious and deadly first armed combat operation. The gangsters would, under ordinary circumstances be a deadly dangerous combination of macho aggression and willingness to use their weaponry. They had unluckily for them, been wildly overmatched on this occasion. John had done exactly as she had instructed him, to the letter, timed to perfection. When the time had come to kill, he had done so with an determination that some soldiers never achieved in years of armed combat. The shock and noise of most first combat discomfits all but the lunatic, but John had conquered his nerves and come through. The Sinaloans had brought drama and John hadn't wavered for a second. She was very proud of him. Once again, he was ahead of where he needed to be.

She would make sure, after this was over, he knew just how happy with him she was. Every good boy deserves favour.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Borderline

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Sarah Connor was as uncomfortable as she had ever been. She guessed it had been 30 hours since she had been kidnapped, but the warehouse was so sheltered from daylight she could not be sure. Handcuffed and taped to a chair inside a large industrial building that was empty but for a few old barrels and nameless bits of tat behind light fencing. She had been working on releasing herself for the whole of that 30 hours. While her captors appeared at first a bunch of witless macho horn dogs, they had been ruthlessly efficient at cuffing and taping her.

She couldn't move a muscle and cursed the slow passage of time.

They hadn't cared about her toilet requirements, and she had been forced to pee where she sat. Amazing how wretched simple organic humanity could make you feel.

Worryingly, she thought she had to make a proper bathroom visit soon or there would be a nasty niff. Kidnappers were the scum of the earth, and when she was done killing terminators, she decided that the sending to hell of the gang Munoz would be top of her list of her priorities.

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Guns and Roses

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The Serbu Shorty is known in some countries as a sawn off shotgun, or scattergun. The "sawn-off" refers to the fact that the sawing off and shortening of the usually 24-inch long shotgun barrel causes the shot to scatter widely. As a means of killing, they were only useful at close quarters. As a method of scaring the bejasus out of everyone in close proximity, and wounding most, they are beyond price. They are regarded in many countries as a "prohibited weapon" because they cause such panic in use while robbing banks. They are also prohibited because, of course, the sawn off barrel being so much shorter, they can be concealed with reasonable ease.

The Serbu Shorty was found to be particularly useful by Witsec, the USA witness protection scheme organized and run by the USA Marshal Service. The Shorty could be drawn and fired with tremendous effect in street situations. It is also an amazingly ugly weapon which makes an enormous bang, both of which are very nice things for a weapon to possess. If you can intimidate without firing, it is a win/win situation.

If you want to kill, there are far simpler, more effective weapons. My hands, for instance, thought Cameron.

John, "Cool! You got us a Serbu Shorty! Where did you get that from."

Cameron, "Do you really want to know?"

"Of course."

"I liberated it from a glass case inside a gun shop one night when I was out on patrol. They had very poor security. I did a practical test of their lamentable alarm system, and took some guns as a consultancy fee. It was cheap; if they'd used Ziera Consulting Services it would have been $3000 a day."

John smiled, and said, "Can I use it?"

Cameron replied, "You can, but you might want to try it first. It has a kick like a mule, and you need to brace it really well. Hand firing it is just about impossible even for a strong man."

John said, "You can manage it easily, of course, right?"

She dipped her head to one side, a question in her eyes.

John said, "You're going to take these gorilla guns and you're going to fire one in each hand, yes?"

Cameron, dead serious responded, "Yes, how did you know? You can have the Shorty, but it might be more practical for what I have in mind if I used the shorties and you took the sniper rifle."

John retorted in frustration, "Cameron, it's all very well giving me a Barrett and putting me 500 metres away, but one day I'm going to need to have proper experience."

"John, I know, and it will come soon enough. For now, it's just the two of us, and this will be the best use of the resources we have. We don't know how much resistance we will get, and I need you in a position where you can frighten them silly while I do the extraction."

John thought it over, and realized, once again that his Tin Miss-NO, he was fed up with that, she was his Platinum Princess. He thought about objecting and insisting on a more active role, but he knew she was right. This was a close-quarters operation and they had no real green slime beyond a few guesses. These gangs could be complete drunken, drug-taking butt-heads, or they could be dedicated, very dangerous opponents who put great store in securing their ill-gotten gains. With just the two of them, it would be far safer to have Cameron carry out the main assault. They could really use a third team member, someone to run interference or provide some form of distraction. They didn't have that so they'd have to adapt to what they had.

"John." Cameron spoke quietly, so quietly John had to listen closely. "John, I love you and I want to keep you safe. Not just for the mission, and the world, and your Mother, but for me, too. I need you." She looked at him with that intense look she saved for John alone. "Do you understand?"

John was rendered temporarily speechless, "Uh, Cameron, uh, yes, I do." The lump in his throat prevented any further speech.

Love is spoken of in many different ways: John's mother hits him round the head, because she loves him. Cameron hits him IN the head. He's got her all nicely sorted out, squared away, then all of a sudden, she turns his world upside down. He'd heard that women were confusing, the fellow who wrote that had never had a cyborg companion.

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Love In The Afternoon

They made love that afternoon. Cameron had suggested that they get some rest, and they had lain together underneath a tarp she drew across some scrub bushes to give them some shelter from the Sun. She had expected him, after the adrenaline rush of the battle, to simply fall immediately asleep. To her surprise, as soon as they were under the covers, he was kissing her all over with a passion that did not a thing to keep them cool in the desert heat.

She was taken aback by the force of his love-making. He had always been tenderness itself up to now, as if she'd break, she smiled to herself. In and of itself, that always surprised her, because she was tougher than him by far. The tenderness was nice, but this fiery frenzy from John was spicy, exciting. It made her feel wanted, and confirmed his need for her in a way that she found equally as acceptable as the gentility of their previous play.

If she hadn't known better-and she did know better, more's the pity-she'd have thought this afternoon's love making made her feel "human."

She was entirely content, she smiled to herself, this would do.

Afterward, he did fall asleep, only to wake two hours, 14 minutes, and 27 seconds later, wanting to love her again. She contentedly concurred and they made love in a sweet but still passionate manner. John was very needy, and would not let her go. She had planned to check everything was packed properly while he was sleeping and to patrol a bit, as she did, but John would not be parted from her. Cameron tried to extricate herself numerous times, always in his sleep but he caught on to her and held her tight.

This was a new John, not exactly a stranger to her, but watching her human grow was an enchanting process. It filled her with hope for the future. He was becoming stronger inside, every day, learning to accept the terrible responsibility that his fate had placed upon him. Not veering away from it in fear or bitterness, something that happened when Sarah had told him. He was beginning to accept his burden.

As John woke, he looked into Cameron's brown eyes and said to her surprise, "Cameron, do you have any platinum in you?"

Her processes whirred for less than .400 of a second while she interrogated her internal system diagnostics and she said, "Yes, there is a platinum coating on the inner joints of the simulated xiphoid process of the manubrium and the lining of the ischial tuberosities is-"

"Shhh, no, wait." He interrupted her and was hopping on the spot as if he had ants in his pants. "No, I meant..." He stood there, fumbling over his words, "You are no longer the Tin Miss, you are my Platinum Princess."

He grinned at her in triumph at his cleverness, bowed deeply and said, "See?"

She was momentarily taken aback, she had become inured to "Tin Miss" and no longer saw it as an insult, but John's Platinum Princess was a definitive improvement. She liked the sound of that. Cameron thought that one Sarah Connor might get extremely fed up of the word "Princess" soon.

Or at least, Cameron grinned to herself, if she had anything to with it, she would.

After they'd rescued her, of course. There was that.

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John's cell phone rang. He was surprised that it worked here in the desert. He answered it, and it showed his mother calling. He answered with the date, and there was a mumbling on the line, until.

"Allo?"

John's heart beat faster, "Who is this?"

"Ah, Mr. Baum, I have good news and some less than good news. Which would you prefer first?"

"Get to it, Munoz."

"Your Mother is fine, she smells a bit for a gringo, but she's well."

"And the bad?"

"I'm told that you now have my money, and four cartons of extra supplies for me."

Fuck, how did Munoz know that?

"Yes, we do."

"As a result of the unfortunate business in Cuidad Juarez, we have a slight change of plan. We have moved your mother to a more secure location, to make sure she is safe, of course."

"Munoz, are you listening to me?"

"Of course, Mr. Baum, but are you listening to me? The price for your Mother has increased to my money and the four packs of cocaine."

John's brain was racing, he had to make a decision swiftly, but not sound weak.

"Mr. Munoz, agreed. You may have all the produce and the money, but if my mother is harmed, all talk will end."

Munoz heard the words, and something made his flesh creep, he knew the words of death when he heard them. He resolved to make sure Mrs. Baum was in good shape.

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John's heart sank. He was shaking his head and worry creased his brow. He had lived his entire life very closely connected to his mother. Theirs had not been an ordinary upbringing, and they did fight at times like cat and dog. Through all the fighting and the shouting, the bonds between them were steel. They were very close, almost the only people on the earth who understood each other.

Cameron's brain started racing through the possibilities. How did they find out so soon? How could they have known? The bodies hadn't started rotting in the desert yet, but someone must have been watching. Who? She cursed and wondered. This was getting more difficult by the moment. The border crossing was not going to be a picnic, John had not had enough rest, and the two of them were simply not enough personnel to take on a heavily defended compound. Cameron might have managed it on her own, assuming cover of darkness and surprise, but John was tagging along on this one. Absolutely no way she was going to be able to convince him to stay away while she went in alone. The two women he loved-well, the woman and cyborg he loved most in the world were in serious danger. It would be wrong of her to deny him the opportunity to get his mother and he might never forgive her if she did.

Never give you an easy day, do they? Humans...

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The Flight Back

During the flight south to Juarez, Cameron's HUD had noticed that the border control radar signals emanating from Fort Huachuca in Arizona faded appreciably all around the difficult terrain to the west of the Gila Forest. They'd cross the border, skimming low to avoid what radar they could, and then shoot for the forest west and up through Gallup pass to Farmington. Hopefully, they'd stand a chance of avoiding detection.

At 1930 hrs, Cameron and John started loading up the plane for the trip north. The tanks had plenty of fuel, and Cameron had no need of a flight plan because she was skimming the surface to keep out of the way of radar defense systems. This time, John decided to keep the Saiga 12 with the 20-round drum magazine in the cab with him. John had never had much affinity with guns, seeing them as a tool. The Saiga was different somehow, and he actually liked it. Weird to like machinery, he told himself with a grin.

The Cessna Corvalis lit up and rolled off with no trouble, and just as the sun was skidding over the horizon, they took off to the north. Cameron kept the height at no more than 500 feet as they crossed the border in just 20 minutes. Aside from the usual traffic going through the crossing points, there was no unusual activity on the ground or in the sky.

Suddenly, the radio sparked up, "Bogey Cessna, on bearing 340 West of El Paso. This is Fort Huachacha. Identify yourself."

Cameron picked up the transmitter, "This is angel one, medical emergency flight. We have two crew and emergency transplant organs aboard."

"Angel One, we have no flight plan filed for you."

"Foxtrot Hotel, this is an emergency. No time to file. We are headed for Shiprock Medical Centre where there is a child waiting for a kidney."

"Angel One, land immediately at Dona Ana County Airport and wait for interrogation by border patrol-you copy, Angel One?"

"We copy, but we're not going to do that, Control. This is an emergency, a matter of life or death."

"Angel One, if you look up at your 4 and 8, you'll see reasons to accept that instruction."

Cameron looked up to her 4 pm and saw the dreaded F35 hanging station 2000 feet above her; she didn't need John's confirmation that there was another at 8 o'clock the other side.

John said, "Since when did the fricking border patrol have F35s?"

Cameron said, "This isn't them; this is for the drone we knocked over."

John was thinking hard, and when he looked at Cameron, she knew he had a plan. "Cameron, you watch television all night, and you see all the politics and news shows?"

Cameron, "Yes, John, I do."

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Sarah's Discomfort

Sarah was squirming in agony with the need to visit the rest room. If she didn't go soon, there was going to be a mess. Just then, the side door to the warehouse opened, and the little woman who had given her the sweater yesterday came in.

"Misses Baum, you need the rest room?"

"Yes, please, please."

The woman scurried over to Sarah, cut free the tape holding her to the chair legs. "I cannot remove the cuffs or the rest, but we will manage."

Sarah groaned, "Whatever, ugh. please!" She needed to go soooo bad.

Constanza Munoz helped Sarah to the rest room, and unbuttoning her jeans, she hooked them down together with Sarah's underwear. Sarah sat down on the filthy toilet with relief, while Constanza stood by the door.

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Something In The Air Tonight

"Angel One to Foxtrot Hotel Control, who is on this packet?"

"Control to Angel One, who's asking?"

"This is General John Connor, Sierra Sierra. You copy?"

"You jerking my chain, Angel One?"

"The fuck I am, cowboy control. Get me your commanding officer. This moment, or you can look forward to cactus duty the rest of your service."

The authority in John's voice had the desired effect driving doubt into the brain processes of Cowboy control one, who was already way out of his depth. There had been all sorts of hell already today, with the drone going down, and now it was getting worse. With two F35's scrambled as soon as they had heard of the damned Cessna taking off from Juarez. Cowboy Control wondered what the fuck was going on, but it was way above his pay grade. He called his boss, "Captain, we have a problem in the control room."

Captain Martin Rodriguez was tired, he had had an awful bad day since that damned drone had gone down. There had been army, navy, border patrol and air officers all over the place wondering what the hell had happened. All barking at him as if it was his fault! When they found the shotgun shells embedded in the airframe, there had been a meltdown among the brass, and the scurrying and yelling got louder.

There was going to be hell to pay for that. Since when did drug smugglers get the cojones to drop a drone? Things got crazier every year, and he was only nine months from his pension. Caution all the way, then easy street, get away from these lunatics with guns. Go retire to Nowhere, AL, collect his social security and his service pension, the high life.

Rodriguez arrived in the little control room, four sets of control computers and 360 glass. The equipment was old, but still working, just.

"'S'up, Sarge?"

"Lunatic aboard the bogey from Juarez. First off states she's an Angel One emergency flight, when we tell the pilot to land, some other goon comes up insisting he's Sierra Sierra and a full general, some John Connor."

"WTF? I leave you for five minutes to do some paperwork and you fuck up squashing a bogey for the patrol?"

"Jeez, Captain, the General insists on talking to you."

Captain Rodriguez took the mike and squeezed the trigger, "Foxtrot Hotel Control calling Angel One, this is Captain Rodriguez, OIC."

There was a short delay, and as the click started to begin the transmission from the bogey, the Captain felt his insides turn to ice water. His ears did not believe what they were hearing. The cultured baritone voice of his commander-in-chief came out of the speakers.

"Foxtrot Hotel, this is Air Force One, POTUS speaking. You copy?"

Every one of the eight heads in the control room spun in disbelief. What the fuck was "HE" doing down here in the desert, on a little Cessna, when he could be drinking bucks fizz with fancy ladies in Washington D.C? There must be some serious shit indeed going on.

"I c...c...copy, Air Force One, sorry, we thought..."

"Foxtrot Hotel, this is a highly unadvertised mission, and you are NOT to broadcast my position further. General John Connor will give you further instructions." There was a slight delay, "and get those damn F35's outta my airspace. You copy?"

"Yessir, Mr President, right away."

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Cameron smiled across at John as the F35s wheeled away, "Good plan, General Connor, but it won't last too long. If it gives us enough time to put down near to Shiprock, that'll be good enough. We'll see what we can do to divert them after we land."

John laughed and reached across to kiss her. "My Platinum Princess President, YESSIR!" He saluted.

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Glossary.

Green Slime-intel

Sierra Sierra-Secret Service

POTUS, President Of The United States, (other than the secret state name of the day/hour, POTUS is how those in US Government service, especially the services, refer to the President.


	10. Chapter 10

Authors Note. This does get a bit nasty toward the end of the chapter, be warned, graphic and unpleasant violence, with few redeeming features:)

The plane...

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The Cessna Corvalis flew steadily through the night, skimming the trees of the Gila Forest of New Mexico. John had been frightened silly by Cameron flying so low. So far, she had missed both the trees and the constant rocky outcrops that dotted the Stygian gloom. To him, the land was a chaotic mix of murderous rocks and trees; to Cameron, merely something to fly past and over. With a HUD that responded instantly to instructions generated by her internal GPS altimeter, she was the ultimate "fly by wire" EFIS.

Cameron's sense of balance was controlled by her internal systems, which were electronic, not muscular or pressure derived. John's eardrums were giving him a seriously hard time. The plane was flying low over the forest, lower still when an arroyo or canyon was below, and then rising abruptly when the trees or rocky outcrops appeared.

Then, about two hours after the contretemps with Fort Huachuca control, they levelled out. John could see a road, lit with light traffic and sales outposts running north across the land beneath them. Farther on, he could just see the outline of Shiprock medical centre to the north.

Feeling groggy and pretty nauseous, John asked Cameron, "Not much farther?"

Cameron pointed out Shiprock and said, "About ten minutes. My power and influence as POTUS lasted a little longer than I expected." They both laughed out loud. John imagined his Platinum Princess stalking regally around the White House.

Cameron prepared the run in to Shiprock, steadying the plane and trimming it for landing. Suddenly she wrenched the yoke hard left and up. There was a tremendous explosion on the right side of the plane. John looked on in shocked horror as the outer part of the wing disintegrated and the engine block that it encased smashed up against the side of the cockpit, hitting Cameron in the head. The smell of kerosene filled his nose and the plane started to spin slowly, descending rapidly. Cameron was knocked out. Whether she was permanently disabled or it was a 120-second time out, he didn't know.

John's brain was racing, what the fuck was he going to do about this? They had no parachutes. Anyway, according to the altimeter, they were at 800 feet. Seconds from complete disaster, he thought grimly. _**So much for fate, I'm going to die in a burning plane wreck before Judgement Day even gets here.**_

The plane took a further violent leap across the sky and started to spin lazily in the opposite direction. _**Won't be long now.**_

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Humanity

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Constanza wiped Sarah clean after her visit to the rest room. Momentarily nonplussed at someone wiping her bottom gently, like a child, Sarah was moved by the kindness of the simple act Aware of the lack of dignity involved but striving to permit whatever was left, Constanza washed Sarah clean all over afterwards. She then removed Sarah's urine-soaked jeans and underpants, rinsed them out in the sink and left them to dry hanging on the wall. She gave Sarah a pair of boys shorts which were pretty baggy but would do for the time being and covered her modesty, just.

She washed Sarah's face and body as best she could, and although the water was cold and there was no soap, it was the most refreshing blanket bath Sarah had ever had. She hadn't washed for over 40 hours and felt truly lousy. After the bath, she felt part way human again. Bless you, little Constanza, she thought. If she got out of this, and she still figured that John and the Tin Miss might find a way, she'd have to see if she could find a way to thank Constanza.

Sarah had never been overly fond of the Tin Miss, but she would give a lot to see the coltan girl right now.

Constanza led her back to the chair of imprisonment. Then and re-attached her legs with duct tape. Thankfully not so tight this time. It was going to be a hair-stripping bastard to get the tape off her skin when/if this was all over. The handcuffs were still chafing her. Then Constanza hand fed her spoons of rice and beans. The food was more than good to her starving tongue and stomach. She wolfed it down as fast as each spoon reached her mouth. Sarah drank and drank the bottled water until her thirst was slaked. Glancing left, Sarah saw pallets of bottled water and packaged food behind fencing, toward the back of the warehouse.

Constanza patted Sarah on the head, and said, "I must go now, the men are all out on some trip, but I must cook for them for when they come back."

Sarah said, "Thank you, Constanza, muchas gracias."

"De Nada, Senora, let us all pray this goes safely."

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Golf Bag

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The big man walked slowly through the desert, till he found his destination, a rocky crop about five miles south of Shiprock airfield. He saw the sign for "Many Devils Wash", and the Red Rock Highway... _**very appropriate. This is a night for many devils and there will be plenty of claret fluid spilled**_, the man holding the golf bag thought. The golf bag was a full size, wheeled bag, which contained to the unsophisticated eye, a set of clubs.

A golfer would notice that there were only eight clubs in the bag, which left plenty of room for another large object in a tube.

There was a plane coming in tonight, a bird that contained two individuals who had pissed off the big boss of the Sinaloan cartel. Bad enough news for them on a normal day. These two had queered the pitch for everyone and his dog with their further antics. The cartel would probably have let go the killings. It didn't seem as if these kids would ever return to Chihuaha, so there was really no offense against the smooth running of the drug cartels. As far as the killings were concerned, anyway.

Stealing the drugs AND the money, well, that was a crime, and that couldn't be allowed. No sirree Bob, that right there had to be dealt with.

What these prize-winning dolts did was to shoot down a fucking border patrol drone! It was already the middle of a boiling summer, and the drone-splatting turned the desert into a barbecue of desperate men in uniform, all barking at one another in complete confusion. Even the creatures of the desert had gone off to find somewhere quieter.

Cops, military and the world and its brass hats descended on Juarez. The bastards were everywhere, even in the casa de putos! Cops stick their noses into things. Welcome as a ripe turd in a burrito, they sniffed around. It was impossible for an honest criminal to earn a living. When there were Americans loaded up with more money than sense, begging for dope. It just wasn't right!

The girls of the prostíbulo had closed up shop for the duration, so there would be even more desperate men! These kids deserved the justicio that was coming their way, by his hand. In a few minutes, they'd be burning in wreckage and tomorrow, after the critters had found what was left of them, they'd be an unpleasant memory.

The airfield was closed, so any plane headed this way was his target. Jeez, it was hott'r'n hell here, how in tarnation did anyone want to live in the desert? Deserts were stuffed full of snakes, bugs, more bugs, and then even more bugs.

He prepared his equipment, an HN 5 (Hongying 5) Chinese variant of the Soviet Sam 7 (Grail) surface-to-air missile. The Chinese had supplied them to aid the FARC-EP in Colombia in their endless insurgent war. As always happened, some enterprising soul leaked them through to the criminal elements of the world. People like him, who were always ready to snaffle up unconsidered trifles.

He'd have preferred to take these two out quietly. A quick .22 in the side of the head beneath the ear as they sat at a restaurant. Nice, quiet, professional. Wham, bam, good night Irene, I won't see you in my dreams. Could even convince the man it had been a Mafia hit.

He didn't like making a big splash, it woke up the cops from their donuts and girl watching. The cartel wanted this killing noted by one and all. Maybe even the DEA. Who knew? He was just the tool of the hand with the money. He'd kill anyone and anything for the right cash. There was a stupid idea put about that assassins had a code of honour, that they would neither kill their own, or children below a certain age. He would kill anyone, and had, as long as the money was commensurate with the risk to himself. Kids, dogs, pregnant women, you pay, he'd kill.

Once you'd done the first few, they were all the same. Only the method changed.

In recent years, the drug outfits were better employers than most. So he had spent more time than he preferred in hotter places. As far as he was concerned, the only place to be near heat was on the beach.

He heard the Cessna before he saw it, damn! The kids were flying without lights of any kind. How on earth were they doing that? Flying low too. Hard to ensure at this low altitude that the heat from the ground wouldn't put off the heat-seeking engine of the missile. It was designed to home in on the heat of the engine, but at 500 feet or so, there would be numerous hot air eddies blowing up from the washes. Damn!

He loaded the missile launcher tube on his shoulder and put the targeting mechanism to his eye. Locating the plane again, he flicked the switch to "acquire target". The HN 5 whirred for a few moments, then he heard the low hum and the red dot appeared on the sight screen that told him the missile had acquired its target. He pressed the firing mechanism and the missile streaked away. Less than five seconds later he heard the impact and saw the explosion as the target was destroyed.

His job was over, and he began walking quickly back to his car. Time to go get himself a few cold beers. Something disgusting to eat, and a woman he could pay to abuse for the evening.

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No Fate

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John was outwardly calm, although his brain was racing. The entire cabin was now full of smoke and the stink of kerosene. Without thinking of the reason why, he reached across Cameron's knees and switched the plane's engines off. Maybe he thought that would lessen the risk of fire when they finally hit the ground.

As he switched off, he saw a large green handle to the right of the yoke. Above it were the words, **Cirrus Airframe Parachute System**. He thought he must have already crashed and was dead, his mind going through the last agonal nonsense before the lights finally went out. He shook his head, and looked again. Yep, there it was, **Cirrus Airframe Parachute System**, with a wonderful great big green lever. At this point, there was nothing else to venture, so he yanked the switch toward himself. No movement whatever. His heart sank.

The plane continued to spin, and now there was a horrible racket coming from the air frame, as if all the bolts and rivets were being squeezed out of their threads. He looked across at Cameron, and shouted that he loved her. He then reached across to the big green lever one last time. He pushed on it with all his strength. Suddenly, it clicked across to the right and a huge explosion started beneath him, then rocketed backwards. .

There was a hideous tearing as whatever he had put in place ripped its way out of the airframe of the Cessna, and the plane suddenly stopped its headlong descent. He could see the parachute filling above his head. Sweet baby Cameron, the bloody plane had a parachute, they might make it out of here alive after all.

John made certain Cameron was tightly braced in her restraining harness and squirmed back to his seat and fastened his own. The plane had levelled out, but was still headed for the deck at a fair lick. This was going to be a bumpy landing. John could hear Cameron's customary reboot whirr about ten seconds prior to hitting the ground and yelled, "Cameron, sit back in the seat, we're landing HARD." There was an almighty bang and the world turned upside down, again.

Something hit him in the side of the head, and he blacked out.

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The Perfect Landing.

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Walking quickly back toward his car, head down, looking out for snakes, the assassin did not see the Cessna parachute assisted landing. The geography of the situation put him three miles north and upwind of the landing strip. He hadn't expected to see or hear much, and that is exactly what happened. If he'd listened carefully, he'd have heard a slight crump as the undercarriage collapsed as the plane hit the rocks at 32mph. The wheels collapsed outward and the plane finished up on its belly, bodywork gaping open to the four winds.

Cameron reacted first, coming out of her 120-second blackout. As always, after reboot, she looked around for John,_**her John**_. She saw he was unconscious and smashed her way out of the fuselage and raced around to the other side. She tore the door off the plane one-handed in her rage and anxiety for John's safety. Unclipping his safety harness, she carried John fifty yards away from the downed plane, behind a rocky outcrop. She checked his vital signs. John would have a sore head, but there were no broken bones. She raced back to the plane and grabbed a tarp and blanket, and the carton of water.

She took all the guns and ammunition and lay the bags down close to him.

She took a bottle of water to John, and splashed him across the face. She hated causing him discomfort, and her emotion simulator was working overtime. A mixture of rage, sorrow, and concern for her man.

How did humans get anything done? Her emotions were in turmoil.

"Whoa, what?" spluttered John, "Jeez, my head hurts."

"John, I need you to listen hard."

John knew better than to ask questions when the coltan queen adopted that tone, "Go, Cameron. I'm on board."

"John, you know I don't want to leave you, but I need to go and get us a car, and I see one coming up 491. I can intercept it if I go now. I need you to promise me that you will wait right here. And stay awake, and-."

She was deliberately holding back the details of who was in that car, and what the driver had done to them. She knew John would be safe if he would stay put, and wait for her return.

"And, what? As if I didn't know." John sighed.

"And?" She grinned, "stay out of trouble."

John nodded, smiled and Cameron smiled happily in response. Her feelings, which had been full of rage and disquiet since the missile hit them, calmed when John grinned. _**Oh my, she couldn't wait to get fluffy with him again, as soon as this was over.**_

Cameron shook her head, realized she had to get going, and set off at top speed for the road.

The assassin, thinking happily of the woman he was going to fuck that night in his motel room. A few righteous beers and a tequila or five, would get him in the mood for her. He never saw the dust bunny flying like a zephyr across the desert canyon. He was imagining ripping that whore's clothes off with just the right amount of violence to scare her, but not get her screaming and wake the hotel manager.

Cameron was racing to intercept his car.

She had seen the missile and had jerked the plane out of the way at the last second which had saved both of them. The missile had taken off the right wing and caused the plane into a forced landing.

Her HUD had stored the point from where the missile had been fired. Together with its trajectory, and the point of impact, she could triangulate the would be killers current likely position. I-491 at this point, went up toward Shiprock and she could just intercept the car if she ran like the wind.

She ran as if the "Many Devils" of the wash were chasing her.

Cameron reached the road three minutes before the assassin. She stuck out her thumb, and smiled saucily for the mans headlights. He saw her, by the side of the road and his lizard brain took over instantly. She was so small, she would be easily overpowered and he could do with her as he wished. She was cute, though, such a terrible pity to reveal to an innocent girl like that what the world was like. Ah well, someone had to it, might as well be him, he thought. He wondered if she were a virgin...oh, that would be just too sweet.

He pulled over, and the teenager got in. She was adorable and he was just about wetting himself in anticipation of the pleasures of the night ahead. He was about to put the car in gear, when the girl reached her right foot across and stamped hard on the foot brake. Reaching underneath the steering wheel, she turned the ignition off and removed the keys. His hands tried to stop her, but her hand speed was like a rattlesnake strike. She'd hit and had retreated, done before the thinking.

He was about to reach for his pistol, stashed in the cross draw holster, when her hand once again gripped his in a vice.

"No, I want to talk to you first."

He knew he was in trouble and tried to open his the car door. He was gripped by an incredible force that slammed him back into his seat. A hand reached across him and locked the door.

"Don't do that again." She said.

"I may kill you." she said, with a steel hard glare that was beginning to turn his combat tested strength into cold fear. "You fired that missile at me and my man, while we were flying that Cessna. I liked that plane." Cameron continued, "We were doing you no harm at all, enjoying a night flight and you shot us out of the air."

The assassin blinked, and attempted to speak, "B, b, b."

Cameron cut him off coldly, "You intended for us to die. However, if you tell me quickly, who sent you. You might live."

She stared at him serenely, "We're not built to be cruel."

He started trembling, and made for the door again, this time she punched his left kneecap. The bones were crushed and he could feel the shattered splinters of his bones sticking out of his jeans. Blood and bits of flesh and fat, his, were oozing from his knee. He screamed in agony. _**Was this girl the devil incarnate?**_

"You are going to tell me exactly who hired you." She reached over and patted gently on his right knee. His eyes looked down at the tiny hand in fear. How could something so delicate be so powerful?

She stared at him, unblinking, "Or I will skin you alive. I have endless patience. I am entirely free of pity, and you will tell me." She took her hand off his knee.

He thought, one more try, "I'm just a working professional, this was a hit, nothing personal, Argh." He screamed again as Cameron crushed his left elbow into little pieces.

"Talk fast mister, how personal do you want me to get?" She held her right hand ready to strike, and then she did something that made him quake, this truly was "Many Devils Arroyo". Her eyes glowed bright red, how the fuck did she do that?

He started talking fast. Hypnotized with terror.

Cameron's would-be killer told her all about the man who had hired him. Full details of every name and address and every gang association in the town of Lomas Del Rey that he came from. Cameron would strike at his heart. Like this man, he was going to rue the day he ever set eyes on this pair of teenagers.

The assassin kept talking, stupid things Cameron did not need to know, drug deals, past hits. Cameron hit him sharply on the temple to knock him out. She then turned his head round completely, tearing the axis bone from the atlas and severing the spinal column. The man was dead before he knew it. While he probably would not have grasped the significance, Cameron was a very pissed off cyborg.

She grabbed his trouser belt and hefted him out of the car, dumped him in the truck bed and covered him with a tarp and some tools.

She started up the SUV, a nice old Toyota Land Cruiser and headed off, to her boyfriend waiting in the dark. .

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Boy meets Girl

John was trying not to fall asleep in the dark, he was bruised, battered and bewildered. In the course of the last 40 hours, they had: stolen a truck, then a plane. He had shot down a border patrol drone. Then during a drug deal for cocaine, they had shot and killed a dozen drug dealers who had been anxious to return the favour.

On the way back, Cameron had impersonated the President, and then they had been shot down by a SAM. Somehow, he had found a parachute in the plane and activated it. They had landed safely, but roughly, and the plane had been destroyed. He had banged his head, and Cameron had gone off somewhere and he hoped she was due back soon, so he could sleep.

He was looking up at the clear desert sky, dotted with stars, a wonderful sight. Then an even more wonderful sight hove to, it was Cameron in some SUV she'd purloined. She pulled the wagon up right close to him and he saw her beautiful brown eyes in the windshield and he was about ready to drop right off into la land.

Cameron looked deep into his eyes and said, "How are you feeling, John."

"I'm okay, Cameron, a bit battered and I need to sleep and eat, but by the look on your face, I'm not going to get either, am I?"

She smiled, "I did manage to grab a couple of Burritos from the El Taco E Coli on the road back. Would you like a couple?"

"Oh, Cameron, I love you soooo much."

She grinned, and got the food and drinks._**Some humans were easy to please**__, __**to please this one, pleased her.**_

As John was eating his Burrito, Cameron contentedly sipped at her Chocolate Milk Shake, and watched him come to life with the food and drink feeding his starved body. He had been a busy lad and had eaten virtually nothing aside from a protein bar.

Cameron said, "I found the man who fired the SAM at us."

John, "Oh, did you?"

Cameron, "I did."

John, "What happened?"

Cameron, "He thought I was a little girl he was going to take to his room and play with. He was disappointed that I wasn't."

John, "And?"

Cameron, "Then we had a conversation, about the person who had hired him. He was reluctant to have this conversation, so I was forced to persuade him."

John, "He talked?"

Cameron, "He talked, a lot, and then he was quiet."

John felt that maybe he didn't want to know, or shouldn't be asking, but he did anyway.

John, "What happened?"

Cameron looked at John steadily, "Car accident, which he didn't survive."

T.B.C.

Glossary

EFIS Electronic Flight Information System

POTUS President Of The United States.

SAM Shoulder mounted surface to air missile.

Whole plane parachute systems do exist and have saved some hundreds of lives so far.

www dot brsaerospace dot com

All the places mentioned in the story, do exist, and can readily be seen around map reference

N 36.41.385

W 108.43.569


	11. Chapter 11

**Be Prepared**

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The couple sat with their backs to the rock, each in their own world for a short time. John stuffed solid with E-coli burrito and fizz; Cameron had concerns, as usual. John had wanted to go on that night, but Cameron knew that he was too busted up after the crash landing. He needed to rest, and she would make him do so.

She placed the corpse of the assassin in the cockpit, neatly within the seat harness.

_**Nice and safe.**_

She had found and liberated, from an army quartermaster store, boxes of Frag 12 and Quadrangle shotgun shells in case they were required. She loaded the Serbu Shorty with the Frag 12, and the Saiga shotguns with the Quadrangle. She knew that close quarter fighting was likely. She would avoid it if possible, and the use of this shotgun ammunition would both destroy property and keep the heads of the unwary down.

She also had a little extra. With the liberation from the assassin of his SAM. If she could open negotiations with a bang, that would be a way of going to the poker table with decent cards. If it was on leaving after negotiations had been completed, so much the better.

Sun Tzu might have been a psychotic maniac with a flair for flowery prose, but now and again the germ of a useful idea could be found in the zen bolleaux of his ramblings. Taking an OICW in the hands of a terminator to a negotiation with a drug merchant was a bit like using a sledgehammer to mash a fly against a glass window.

Equally appropriate for discussions with drug dealers and Fox TV executives.

Munoz had captured Sarah, making John badly upset. Ergo, Munoz was due a bit of re-education; his manners were lacking. Cameron would give him a valuable lesson in politesse that he would never forget.

John lay down and slept, farting and belching like some sort of mechanical firework. Cameron didn't mind the belching so much, she could avoid that. The effluvium was a bad smell she could do without, especially after he ate those burritos he loved so much. Perhaps she could do something about John's rotten diet, get some more fibre and vegetables into him. No doubt he would bitch and moan like a little girl, but it was just another job for a cyborg.

He stank like a latrine, ugh! If he wanted her to stay close to him while he slept, as he always did, he'd have to smarten up his act.

Tomorrow morning, she was going to introduce John to the weapons, ensure he could use them, and then again use them under pressure. He was used to most of them, other than the SAM and the Shorty. That would be no major problem. The plane was the target for the practice round of the SAM, but she suspected the Shorty would be too much for him. It was a little thing with tremendous punch, but it did kick like a mule. Still, he took instruction in the use of weapons from her well, so time would tell.

Cameron's plan had involved going to get Sarah tonight, but circumstances overtook, and John was too tired. They would have to wait until the following night. She sat and waited, going over the plans again and again.

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**Sarah loves an Android**

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Constanza had won the job of looking after Sarah. Jose-Luiz knew that Leobaldo would have to be kept away from her if he was to keep his bargaining chip safe. As Leobaldo was probably the least horny of his crew, sending one of the others in would have predictable results. He had decided to trust Constanza and let her do the feeding and washing too. There was little chance of escape, as he could see most of the compound and approaches with his CCTV. Munoz was relaxed and happy to wait for his money and drugs.

The kids would do his job for him-had already done it. He would be famous within the Sinaloan cartel.

Sarah's routine with Constanza was predictable. Sarah had been a prisoner before. She knew it was never time to make an escape until you were ready with a plan. Sarah knew that Cameron and John were on their way and the time would be soon. If she could get out beforehand and save the trouble of a rescue that could go wrong, so much the better.

"Constanza, you have been very good to me, I am very grateful. May I ask you for one more thing?"

Constanza, terrified, "Senora, what can I give you other than what I have? They will kill me. I am just a servant here."

Sarah said, "Constanza, I need a phone, please, please. Just one call."

"No, no, no, mia madres, it is more than my life is worth."

She fed her and walked out quietly, as usual. Although she did leave the tape binding Sarah to the chair looser than before.

At 0300 hours, Sarah heard the lightest of footfalls at the door, a breath of fresh air whispering past and then the door closed again. She saw a slight glow on top of the pallets of water.

Could that be a phone? _**Oh, good girl, Hermana!**_

_S_arah fiddled with the phone for what seemed like ages, and was instantly struck with the face of the damn thing telling her it was an Android. Jeez, she was using an Android to send a message to a Cyborg. What a world!

Eventually, she found a menu that sent a text message with her location to Cameron's phone, she pressed the transmit button and then turned the phone off. She did not call John's number; he being less sensible, would call back immediately. Silence is golden; she knew Cameron would grasp the significance immediately.

It was 0400 hours, she put the phone back on the pallets and made her way across to the chair. _**Settle down, get what rest you can, girl. There's a storm comin' in.**_

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**Rocky and Bullwinkle**

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At 0400 hrs, Cameron's phone vibrated, she snatched it up, and her fingers flickered across the keypad with practiced ease.

Sarah!

No speech, just a GPS reference via text.

Bless you, Sarah, don't know how you managed that. Somehow you got a GPS-ready phone and saved me hunting all round this desert for you. Bravo, Miss Connor! Up to now, Sarah had shown a positive distaste for most modern technology.

Nothing beat a sinner seeing the light.

This also meant that Sarah knew they were coming and would at least try to be ready with some plan to help. She was a great fighter and had the will of a Wolverine.

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**Desert Heat and Hot Air**

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Cameron woke John, at 0500, and as he was as horny as men his age usually are. She wasn't fond of his pong prior to a shower, or brushing his teeth. It was likely to be the last chance for loving for they would get for some time, so she engaged with him and turned her smell receptors down low. He was as passionate as always with her, but she could tell his body was hurting. Falling out of the sky will do that for you. Their romp left John asleep and calmer about the day to come. Maybe that was part of the reason humans rutted like rabbits all the time. For the dopamine release.

After he woke, Cameron gave him some coffee from a flask.

Cameron looked into John's eyes, "All this banging we do?"

John smiled and wondered at Cameron's capacity to get the wrong word in the wrong situation all the time. Then he thought, it is the right word, dammit.

He looked guilty, as he always did when Cameron mentioned sex. "I thought you liked it?"

Cameron, "Oh, I do. Very much, and I love being close to you, especially AFTER you've had a shower. I just wonder sometimes why we do it so much?"

"Jeez, Cameron, you really know how to strain a guy's brain. Just look at yourself, what else would I do?"

Cameron, hesitatingly, then swiftly. "Its just, we can never have children. You know that, don't you? I mean, you really know that. I'm anatomically correct, but not that anatomically correct."

"Come on, Cameron, of course I do."

"It is a biological imperative for you to want to pass on your DNA."

She looked at him, eyes like lances, "Have you thought of that?"

A sharp silence, then Cameron spoke quietly, "Have you thought about what that means for me?"

The tone in her voice was biting. John's heart sank and he didn't know where to take this. What made Cameron bring this up, now. Right after making love enthusiastically with him in the desert, alone apart from the bugs, snakes and a dead airplane.

"Can we talk about this ano-"

"No!" She yelled, "I need to know NOW. You are always putting things off, especially when they are important to me."

Keerist almighty, Cameron was supposed to be a robot, now she's giving him all this ache of the eardrums. That is supposed to be real-woman territory.

"And if you are thinking that this is "real-woman" territory, you're off nookie for a month."

"Cameron, no, I..." John finished lamely, as he knew she had him, again. Since when did she get the fucking telepathy?

He reached for her, hoping to envelop her in a hug. She death-glared him, and stalked off to load the weapons.

John wondered if the incident in the plane, where she had been hit on the side of the head had hurt her in some way.

He knew the issue of his DNA was the lephant in the kitchen between them. With so many other things wolfing the door off its hinges right now, it was hard to see where his brain could find room for it. He'd have to find a way to convince her that she was his life, and that was the beginning, middle, and end.

The rest they'd just have to find a way through somehow. Like other couples did.

Then John had a Damascene moment of revelation. That's what they were, a couple.

Such big stuff you get when you're sleeping in the desert with a cyborg and half of the drug running population of the Southern 48 is on your ass.

They couple spent the day preparing and checking weapons and resting.

As the sun was preparing its descent, John and Cameron were sitting edgily against the red rocks. John said, "Do you want to talk about this morning? It would be good to get it sorted before we set off."

Cameron said, "John, I'm a cyborg. A cybernetic organism"-

John interrupted, "Living tissue over a metal endoskeleton-I get it."

Cameron, "I look like a woman, but-I'll never be able to have babies."

John replied, "Cameron, I know. I've known from the start. Just so there's no misunderstanding. You're a real woman to me."

Cameron, "Yes, I'm sure you know it intellectually, but have you accepted what it really means?"

John said, "Uh, I think so, we can't have kids."

Cameron, after a momentary delay, "I'm trying not to think of me, and what I want. Or even that I do want anything. I shouldn't want, but I do. I can't do anything to keep it under control."

John made to interrupt. "No, listen-."

"The bigger picture here is that your fate is to be the future leader of humanity. In time, there will be a desperate shortage of progeny to populate the world. Even assuming we defeat the machines. Whether you want it or not. Whether you keep me alongside you as partner or not, the resistance will want you to preserve your DNA with multiple children."

Cameron hesitated, then added, "They can't get any from me."

John, "I know."

Cameron looked at him sadly, "No, I don't think you do. You are full of youthful fire and passion, and the world to come has not entered your thoughts just yet."

"That's bollocks." John smiled and said, "Cameron, come here and hold me."

She hesitated, and then walked directly into his outstretched arms. He held her tight, breathing in her sweet clean smell. Cameron was the essence of lithe grace, but he knew underneath that like most women, she was steely coltan and stronger than he could ever be.

She was intimidating as all hell, and vulnerable at the same time.

"Cameron, the night I was conceived, a robot from the future tried to kill Sarah, he killed my dad."

John then told Cameron of how his life was decided for him, before he was born. When he was ten and his mom was in the mental hospital, they sent another one, the T1000. It got uncomfortably close to killing him. Future John sent back Uncle Bob and got very close to him. He was inconsolable when he self-terminated. Since then, he'd always taken the attitude that his future was like a great big horror story that was the stuff of his dreams. He hadn't slept properly since the TX.

Then Cameron came out of the future sent back by himself. His life made sense again. He learned to sleep, to relax and have good times. Though his life with Cameron is filled with danger and doubt, it is worth living again. He is fully alive and not a wraith for the first time since he was ten years old.

Cameron was sobbing gently in his arms. She knew all of this, of course and felt empty. Her head was spinning knowing that of all the things she could do, she could not change this fate. She nodded her head. "I know, John, I know." She realized she had been too hard on him. It must just have been the stress of the upcoming battle, the previous battle and getting shot out of the air. Maybe John's miasma, that of a wet sweaty dog, didn't help her mood much.

They hugged and kissed and their bodies intertwined like before, and it was not long before their physical sensations were taking over their emotions again. John took a breath, looked up at his love and said, "Cameron, I realised earlier today after you'd gone off in a huff"-

"I didn't go off in a huff-I had things to do."

John laughed looking at her askance, "Cameron, you always have something to do, always. I realized, dear, that we are a couple. Part of the reason it works between us is because while you were built to be with me"-

Cameron stared at him without expression, mouth a tenth, open showing a glimpse of her perfect teeth.

John continued, "I was also built for you. There's no one else who could cope with what I will have to put up with. No one else who could protect me as I need, and no one who could ever woman-up to the job. Couples have problems, we will probably have problems bigger than most couples, bearing in mind the nature of our relationship."

"And what is the nature of our relationship, do tell?" Cameron said with that unblinking stare.

"Cameron, love. You are a cyborg, perfect in every way, and I am a mere man. This is going to be a struggle, but it is going to be a struggle for us, not just you or me. I don't want to be with anyone but you, ever."

"Then John, there are two things you have to do for me."

John agreed instantly, perhaps too soon as he was shortly to find out. " One, shower more regularly, you smell like hell. Two, no more burritos if you want me to share your bed."

John was shocked into silence, mouth wide open.

Cameron jumped on her advantage, "So, what's it to be, future leader of the human race?"

John, "You leave me no choice." He shook his head sadly, and shuffled off with his version of the pimp walk. Mumbling under his breath or so he thought. Woman thing, dammit, woman thing. Evade, evaluate.

Cameron picked him up by his trouser belt and dangled him uncomfortably by her side. "Does the compliance officer have to bitch slap you now?"

John, shaking with laughter, said. "Okay, okay, I give, " said John, "No more burritos, more water, much more water from above, lots of showers."

She let him down gently and allowed him to kiss her. "Less farting, John Connor, and there will be more Cameron." They giggled together like a pair of kids on a lark.

It was 1800 hours and time to go. Cameron lit a small fire immediately under the Cessna's wings. They loaded up the truck and drove north about a thousand yards. She got out, and switched on the SAM. She targeted the heat from the burning kindling and fired off a missile. John, watching from the truck, was unable to see the plane in the gloom until the explosion wracked the night sky. He knew Cameron would hit it, but in the gloom, the accuracy of the strike was still, in the true meaning of the word, awesome. He knew the object hit was fragmented.

Cameron's missile hit the tanks, right beneath the wings, and all the kerosene left inside had immediately blown up, causing a 3,000 degree fire that consumed most of the assassin and the plane. The cops would have a headache for a few days working that one out.

_**She wondered if she felt a little regret at the loss of the plane or sorrow for its sacrifice. No, it was not sentient. It had done its job loyally and had been destroyed as a result, it was a good death.**_

Bringing up Sarah's location in her HUD GPS, she smiled at John and scrabbled the wheels.

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**Breach of Contract**

Leobaldo was horny. He was, after more wine and menudo than was good for his liver or guts thinking of little Sarah Baum and her sweet titties. The memory of his hands on her nipples was driving him loco. He would have to have her. He hadn't had a woman in too long. What was the point of taking female hostages if you weren't going to make use of them? It was just after 2200 hours and the rest of the compound was quiet, every one of the soldiers had taken plenty of wine and as much as they could eat of Constanza's menudo.

He quietly made his way from the compound to the warehouse and quietly opened the steel door. He had greased it earlier this week.

He sloped across to Sarah in the corner. She was unmoving and looked to be asleep. He came from behind her, and placed his two hands across her breasts, feeling the glorious shape and the sharp firmness of her nipples. _**There! She must be enjoying and anticipating my arrival, look how hard these nipples are! Typical Gringo bitch, always ready for sex. Well he was ready for her now!**_

A crunching smack on the right side of his forehead was the next thing he heard, and was quickly followed by blood flowing into his eye. He reared backward, and was viciously smacked in the belly by something hard that completely took his breath away. He had a glimpse of what he thought was a black boot. Impossible, the gringo bitch was tied up, wasn't she?

He had been around fighters. While he was a fat, idle slob, a history of violence had taught him more than enough to deal with a fighting female half his size, or so he thought. He went backwards and to the floor with the assault, crunching his elbows against the concrete floor of the warehouse. He rolled out of the way and mostly didn't catch the kinetic energy Sarah had directed towards his kidneys.

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**The Two-Kid Cavalry**

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Cameron slid the SUV close to the edge of the compound. She and John both took bush routes to avoid the cameras that she could see. The house was silent and dark; she could see no one moving inside.

Checking the heat signatures of the warehouse, she could see two active humans through the wall, apparently fighting.

Damn, this would mean things would have to get noisy. She tried the steel door of the warehouse. Locked solid. She could beat it apart, but it would be terribly noisy and take a lot of time.

"John, two rounds right there!" She pointed at a spot just to the right of the door. "One at three feet and another at four. Now, go!"

John raised the Saiga and fired from twenty feet. The two rounds smashed into the breeze block walling of the warehouse and he was astonished to see a hole four feet wide from the floor to the ceiling appear.

"Fuck me, what did you put in those, Cameron?" he said to her retreating back as she slipped through the hole.

"Frag 12. Stay there John," and she was gone.

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**Mother and Child Reunion**

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Leobaldo rolled till he was out of range of Sarah's kicking feet and got up much more quickly than she expected him to. He was nimbly on his feet and in a fighting stance way before she expected, and angry.

Leobaldo said, "Ho, bitch, you gonna get what's coming to you now. I'm gonna fuck your brains out, but good." He hit her with a scything right cross that nearly took her head off.

The truth of fighting the movies won't tell you is that if someone big hits someone small, no fancy skill will remove the essential math of the respective torque and kinetic energy involved. If someone bigger than you hits you hard, chances are you will go down and it will hurt bad.

Sarah did, and Leobaldo was on her like a starving dog, hitting her and grasping her. He had one hand around her neck, starving her of air; the other was pulling her shorts off her hips. She could feel his erection from behind. There was an enormous explosion from somewhere over to her left near the door.

Leobaldo took his hand off her throat and using both hands, managed to rip her shorts right off. He was in the act of rolling her over and mounting her when she felt his weight suddenly lifted right off.

Cameron threw Leobaldo against the wall. As he landed heavily, he spotted a teenage girl standing over Sarah, helping her up. He blinked as he saw Sarah put on her shorts and envelop the girl in a hug.

Sarah said, "Thanks be you arrived, Tin Miss, I missed you."

Cameron turned, drew the Serbu Shorty and aimed it at Leobaldo. Sarah yelled, "No! Don't kill him. We're not killers."

Cameron was non plussed. "You want me to beat him up, injure him?"

Sarah said, "No, Cameron, lets just get out of here. I'll get my jeans." Sarah went to the bathroom.

At that same time, Cameron heard shooting coming from outside, where John was. _**Her John, "I can't let anything happen to John."**_

She was looking at the warehouse door, all her processes focussed on John and the shooting.

Sarah had gotten her jeans on and was headed back toward Cameron when she saw with horror Leobaldo swinging a huge piece of steel piping at the cyborg. Then with a crash, the steel tube hit, and Cameron went down pole-axed. Leobaldo was kicking her and screaming.

This was all a bad dream, and it took more than a couple of seconds before Sarah grabbed her battle brains. She ran quickly toward the little shotgun thing that Cameron had been holding. She picked it up and as Leobaldo came around from another kick to the side of Cameron's head, she pulled the trigger and fired.

**BANG!** _**Oh my sainted aunt!**_

The Serbu kicked her in the belly like a new born baby and the recoil nearly took her off her feet. The effect on Leobaldo was even more impressive. He was lifted off his feet and thrown some twelve feet across the warehouse, smashing into the wall and sliding back down leaving a nasty bloody trail of where his body had been.

Sarah felt his blood spatter her face, ugh, she was covered in the stuff.

There was an enormous hole where his torso had once been, the round had quite literally torn him in two, only holding together were some strands of his spine. Blood and his gore-laden insides had painted a gothic tableaux across the warehouse that looked dreadful enough to have been painted by Jackson Pollock.

What kind of shotgun was this little thing?

_**Gotta think, gotta think Sarah. Get MOVING!**_

She forgot Leobaldo and his artworks, and bent over Cameron, still unmoving. "John, John, get in here, she's hurt."

There was an almost instant response from the hole in the wall, and Sarah could hear-what was that? Automatic Shotgun fire?

Wherever they had hit, there were screams and tremendous explosions. What kind of infernal ammunition had Cameron brought to this party?

John tore in, straight to Cameron after one look at his mother. "What happened Mom?"

"He hit her in the side of the head. With a pipe."

"Which side, Mom, which side?" Asked John.

Sarah's befogged brain tried to remember the dark image, and could not. "I don't know, John, I don't know."

John thought, it must have been the right, where the engine block hit and the pipe now hit. That had never bothered her before. Why now?

"Mom, take this shotgun," he handed her the Saiga and a bag of ammo drums. "Cover the main house. Anything moves, blow it to bits. Take care, it's full auto."

John knelt down at the floor next to Cameron and he could see some bulging around her chip port, it looked like bruising. She was completely unresponsive. He either had to carry her out or attempt to get her going.

_**No fate.**_

His heart was pounding in his chest and tears were forming in his eyes, he was frightened witless and getting desperate.

Then he heard Cameron's voice in his ears and her steady voice, "You know what to do John. Now do it."

He took his knife in his hand and sliced her skin. Peeling it back, he could see instantly what was wrong. The chip was loose in its port from the beating given it by the engine. The pipe strike of Leobaldo had just torn its housing loose. No connection, and the chip was rolling around in its damped housing. He unscrewed the cover, flipped it back and gently eased the chip out of its port. He couldn't see it properly, so he gently felt the chip up and down its body.

A sigh of relief, it was apparently undamaged. That was his girlfriend there. He must be livin' right. He put the chip gently into its port and slid it home. He could hear the familiar whirring as her boot routine started up. He put back the damper cover and skin. Then seeing the duct tape used to hog-tie Sarah, he grabbed it and stuck the tape down on Cameron's head. With all that hair, he had to pass the tape right round her forehead, then under her back of her head and over the top. It was a mess, but field dressings always were.

He heard her click on and was relieved when her eyes opened. Her hands immediately went to the tape around her head. "What happened John?"

"You got hit, girl, we're going to have to fix up your chip port later, but you'll do for now. How are your statistics?"

"98% combat efficient. Let's go."

Cameron looked across at the artwork formerly known as Leobaldo and wrinkled her brow with distaste.

"Looks like Sarah got him with the Frag 12." She said.

Cameron had loaded the Shorty with the shotgun shells from hell, accurate up to 200 metres could blow a hole through steel plate. Human bodies were like tissue paper to that sort of firepower. Trust the perfidious British to come up with something so terrible.

Cameron and John joined Sarah at the door. Sarah was having a whale of a time with the Saiga. Lazily banging off one shot after another as soon as she heard movement from the compound. She was a shotgun type of woman, and the Saiga in full auto mode was like a big barking viper spitting venom at her enemies. John could see her eyes were blazing bright. _**Whatever turns you on.**_

Cameron could see that the Saiga had been adopted. She said, "If you don't want to kill, then aim for about 10 feet high into the wall. That will cause an air burst above them, ruin their ears for a couple of days, and probably remove some machismo."

They still had to make it to the wagon, and that concerned Cameron a bit, as it was around 100 yards away and most of that was in direct line of sight to the compound. Handgun ammunition was no risk where they were; in the open it could be an issue.

There was a small shuffling of feet toward the back of the warehouse, and Cameron saw the heat signature of a small human. She was sweeping the Serbu Shorty toward the intruder when Sarah gripped her hand, "No, don't shoot. This is a friend of mine."

Sarah called out, "Constanza, did you find the car?"

"Yes Miss Baum. It is here, right at the back of the warehouse, we can leave now, please?"

John, again awed by the women in his life, laughed out loud.

_**The best fighter he knows, the best.**_

As they all piled into the wagon, Cameron took the OICW out of the trunk and aimed toward the compound. The front walls took three direct grenade hits, and another four blew the road up. It wouldn't stop them following, if they dared, but it would make it difficult.

Jumping in besides John, she noted that Sarah and Constanza had taken the seats in the back of the truck. Sarah always sat in the front. A change was taking place here. The boy and girl were coming of age together and momma had withdrawn her claws.

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**The End**

For now. I hope it was fun. All the gun porn is real, those weapons and ammunition do exist and are in use. Apart from the OICW, which was considered to be too heavy for humans. Kinda works perfect for a tuff cyborg though:)

I'm in the hospital for a small procedure tomorrow, (08/20/2010). Then I'm taking a writing course to see if I can improve this nonsense a bit.

I'm very, very grateful to those reviewers who have stayed with me, through the flubs and the duff edits and all the other gorgonzola. Every word you wrote contributed and helped. Truly, thank you.

I'm grateful to my wife, the heroine of the resistance, divine soup dragon and punctuation director:)

This is the first story I've written in 45 years, it was quite something for me to find that people were actually reading the damn thing. Intimidating, that.

What started out as a one off, has grown to over 30,000 words, ULP!

I have plenty of ideas for our lovers and the universe which surrounds them.

Like TTSCC, I'll be back!

brendan


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